


I'm no Detective

by NikkiDoodle



Series: I'm no Detective || Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Mild Language, Mystery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 25,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiDoodle/pseuds/NikkiDoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were running-- at least that's what he tried to convince you anyways. Sherlock Holmes was a man who could read anyone in the blink of an eye. So, why did he have such trouble in reading you? You a simple girl who had came from America to live with your aunt. You out of all people. Why you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somethings Are Better Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story from my Quotve account. I have transferred it to this account due to enjoying the easier organization.

“Sherlock, are you just going to sit there all day?” you asked, walking in the room in your nightly attire. Sherlock’s gaze followed you boringly until you went into the kitchen. He too was in his morning robes and slouching in his chair, bored as ever. When you returned form the kitchen you had a cup of coffee in your hands as you sat down in the chair across from Sherlock. Taking your legs underneath yourself, you sat there and sipped on the hot coffee - hoping that the two ice cubs you had placed in it would melt quickly and make it more enjoyable to drink.

“Bored,” Sherlock muttered causing you to look at him questionably before glancing at all his case files that littered the desk next to him.

“Nothing interesting in those files?” you asked, gaining one of his of ‘If there was, I wouldn’t be complaining. Use that brain of yours.’ looks, you merely shrugged and sighed.

“I’ve only been here for three months and I’ve found a few hobbies-”

“Please, I don’t think hobbies are having tea with John and helping out your aunt; Mrs. Hudson.” he interrupted while glancing at you,

“You still haven’t told me why you left America. Though, I can think of a few reasons why.” Sherlock said rather rudely before turning his attention towards the wall. You rolled your eyes and continued to sip on your coffee; use to his persona by now.

“Well, I’m sure something will turn up so you can have a little fun and use that head of yours.” You didn’t see it but Sherlock smirked at your choice of words. Hearing footsteps descending the stairwell you both knew it was John. And you were both shown correct when he entered the flat and looked at the both of you.

“Well, good morning Sherlock, and [Name].” he greeted, not expecting to see you.

“Morning John,” you said politely. Sherlock on the other hand gave him a depressed sigh and locked his eyes with the wall once more. John just looked back at you for answers, you smiled.

“He’s bored because he has no interesting cases.” John made a ‘ah’ sound and nodded.

“There’s coffee in there if you would like some, just made it not too long ago.” You continued. John took you up on the offer and disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee.

“So, what do you have planned today, John?” you asked, curious as to if you would be spending your day with him or Sherlock. Normally, you would hang around one of the two men since you weren’t use to London just yet. Being from America it was a little different living here with your aunt. You wanted to learn your way around London before going off on your own; usually you spend your time with John, seeing as how he was out and about more than Sherlock.

“Well, I have to go to the store and then I was going to check out a job offer."

“Why, would you like to come with?” You smiled, knowing that it would look a little weird if you were to show up with him at his job offer; but you figured you could be doing something else while that occurred.

“Sure, I’d love too.” John smiled before glancing over at Sherlock, who was no longer staring at the wall, but at John. John’s smile dropped, knowing that Sherlock was trying to read him and he did not appreciate it.

“Well then, I suppose we should get dressed and then we can head out.” Finishing the last of your coffee you stood from your chair and went to place the cup in the kitchen sink so it could be wash later. You then headed back downstairs to get dressed, leaving John and Sherlock alone by themselves.

“Don’t say it,”

“Oh please John, I would never dream of saying that she’s not interested in you that way and you’re old enough to be her father.”

“Sherlock!”

“Oh my, I guess I did end up saying it didn’t I?” John resisted the erg to punch Sherlock in the face. Knowing good and well that it was barely only 10 o’clock and he had a long day to go.


	2. Cases Make Life Worth Wild

“You know, I don’t understand why he’s dogging on you all the time.” John just looked at you, confused as to what you were talking about. He knew it was about Sherlock, but what he didn’t know was what brought up this conversation.

“I overheard some of what was said upstairs, you yelling at him I mean.” John felt a rush of relief wash over him knowing that you didn’t hear what brought on the shouting.

"Oh that well, he wouldn't be Sherlock if he didn't I suppose?" Clearing his throat he watched out the window of the cab as it came to a slow stop right outside apartment 221B. You both stepped out of the cab and walked into the building with your hands full of sacks from the store. When John had went to his interview you had went to the book store that was nearby and lingered around there until he was finished.

Now, heading into Sherlock’s flat you walked inside with Sherlock nowhere to be found. Walking into the kitchen you sat the bags down and took a look around the room, trying to figure out if Sherlock was home or not. To the eye it seemed like he had left somewhere, but you were inexpertly greeted with the noise of the bedroom door shutting.

“I see you’re both back.” Sherlock said, walking into the room still wearing his robes. You looked him up and down, not expecting to still see him in his nightly attire. John quickly joined your side after he had walked in and placed the sacks down next to yours.

“And I see that you’re still not dressed.” You inquired, earning a roll of the eyes from Sherlock as he walked past you and into the living room. Glancing over at John, you knew he was thinking the same thing. You had to do something to get Sherlock out of the house and out of this mood he was currently in.

“Why don’t you call that detective that you work with, see if he has anything?” you said, walking into the living room while John put away the items he had bought from the store. Sherlock was laying on the couch with his back to you and gave you an ungrateful noise that sounded almost like a groan.

“You mean Lestrade? Oh come now, you’ve got to be joking!” Rolling around to a sitting position, Sherlock looked at you with his hand out resting on his knees. You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest as you chewed your bottom lip harshly; you tended to do this when you were nervous or thinking, currently you were thinking.

“Well, what else is there that you can do? Sherlock, you can’t just lay around the house all day, it’s not healthy.”

“Most of the things I do aren’t considered healthy, but I do them anyways because I can.” You sighed, watching as Sherlock flipped his robe over him before curling up into a ball and laying back down onto the couch with his back facing you. Turning toward the kitchen you saw that John had put up the last of the food and was headed back this way. With one hand on your hip and holding out your other arm, you pointed over to Sherlock.

“You’re a doctor, tell him that what he’s doing isn’t healthy!” John just looked at you baffled before turning to see Sherlock in his position on the couch. John knew that when Sherlock became like this the only thing that would get him out of his mood was a good case and currently, they were one good case short.

Luckily though, that was all about to change when the three of you all heard a car pull up to the front of the apartment. Hearing a car door shut and the doorbell ring, you walked over to the window to see who it was outside. You couldn’t believe what you saw, a police car sitting right out front.

“Well, looks like you’re going to get dressed after all,” Sherlock glanced over at you just as you pulled away from the window. He knew who was out front and now coming up the stairs due to Mrs. Hudson allowing him inside.

“Sherlock, we’ve got a case.” Lestrade said as he entered the flat, only to see John and you standing around and Sherlock still in his robes at one in the afternoon. Sherlock rolled over and sat straight up on the couch, a smug smile on his lips as he looked up at Lestrade.

“I know.”


	3. A Sudden Change With An Unknown Cause

“So how is the case coming?” John was the first one to look from his computer at you as you entered the flat. Sherlock on the other hand was busy thinking in his chair.

“Well, it turns out that Sherlock has already figured it all out.” John informed you. You looked at him with disbelief then glanced over to Sherlock for answers. Course he gave you none, he probably didn’t even register that you were in the room with the two now. You looked back at John who had started typing on his computer again; most likely on his blog about how Sherlock had solved the case.

You walked over to the chair directly across from Sherlock and sat down. Your eyes wandered around the room in search for something to distract yourself only to find nothing of interest.

“When did you get here?” Your head snapped in Sherlock’s direction as he asked you the question. You sat there with your mouth open for a moment trying to figure out something to say, only to have your mind draw a blank for some strange reason.

“She just got here a minute ago when you were in the middle of thinking, Sherlock.” John informed him, not taking his eyes off the computer screen as he continued to type. Sherlock just continued to sit there, looking at you. His hands were folded over and resting against his mouth. His head lowered down to where the chair sent an overcasting shadow while his eyes never left your own. It seems that you start an intense staring contest with him when you refused to look away.

“So then, what are you doing this afternoon?” You raised a brow to his unusual question. Normal Sherlock was the type to keep to himself and not care about what anyone else was doing or if they had plans. As long as they were open to his every waking need he was content for them to do whatever.

“Well, I was going to go to lunch-”

“With who?”

“With John like always? Is there something that I missed here, some deeper meaning behind this question of yours,” Sherlock just seemed to smile as he pushed his self up from his chair. By now John had stopped typing and was turned around in his chair looking at Sherlock, also wondering what he was planning. Standing there for a moment longer Sherlock seemed to smile as he looked back down at you; who wore a confused look.

“Hope you can make room for three in your dinner plans!” Sherlock said as he quickly scurried out of the room before John could get onto him. Leaving the two of you there, you glance over at John who seemed to still be looking in the direction Sherlock had fled.

“What’s going on? He never wants to have dinner with us, so why all of a sudden?” John just shook his head and looked over at you frowning deeply. You didn’t understand what was going on right now, but it seemed that Sherlock was up to something but you didn’t quite understand what it was. You figured it had something to do with pestering John more, seeing as how that seemed to be his favorite past time.


	4. Bickering is a Conversational Piece

You did not understand why Sherlock was so persistent in coming to lunch with you and John. He had never wanted to come prior this, so what made him change his mind this time? Whatever it was you knew you would never figure out, and that’s what bothered you so much. Sherlock Holmes was always able to read others; no matter what the event may be.

You on the other hand, you were lucky enough to even understand your own actions and thoughts. But, it seemed that you were starting to become better ever since Sherlock had shown you how to figure people out. He would always tell you that people see but they don’t think, meaning they don’t pay close enough attention to the smaller details of a person.

“I think I’ll take my usual.” Passing the menu to John, he took it with a smile. Sherlock watched as the two of you interacted, rolling his eyes occasionally when John would try to make a poor attempt at flirting with you, and only for you to push it aside always thinking it was his way of being nice. Closing the menu after a quick glance through it, Sherlock placed it down on the table and looked over at John.

“So, I’m assuming that you come here often, seeing as how [Name] is ordering her _usual_.” Sherlock made sure to emphasizing the word ‘usual‘. John sighed, knowing already where this was headed.

“Yes Sherlock, we come here frequently.”

“Ah.”

“’Ah‘? What‘s with the ‘ah‘?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Good.”

“Just the fact that you’re content here, and because you’re comfortable here means that you don’t have to worry about your surroundings and you can turn your attention towards,” Sherlock’s eyes flickered over towards you- watching as you sipped on your drink, unaware of his eyes.

“Other matters.” If looks could kill, John would have killed him twice and perhaps a third. Sherlock just sat there, smirking like always when he was right about something.

“Are you done, Sherlock?”

“Oh no, there’s much more!”

“Why can’t you two behave out in public? And Sherlock, leave John alone.” Both men turned towards you, noticing the disappointing look you gave them. You rarely gave either of the men that type of look, it was the look you only made when you were at your wits end with them both. Clearing his throat, Sherlock turned his attention to one of the many walls in the café, while John muttered a small apology to you.

Thankfully the rest of the meal was able to be finished in peace and quiet.


	5. He Can Be Sweet Sometimes

Sherlock sighed; frustrated with this new case he was currently working on. Normally there was nothing to figuring out what happened and who was behind it, but as of right now he was having some difficulty. There was someone who was going around and using other people as hostages, but not only were they hostages but they were also the only contacts that Sherlock had to solve this case.

If he did not figure out these clues that they had given him, they would be blown up with explosives. He only had a certain amount of time to figure out these clues, and the last one was proving quite difficult.

“Knock, knock, can I come into the realm of the mastermind?” you asked while peeking your head into the room. Sherlock glanced over at you, seeing your smile quickly drop from his serious expression he went back to thinking. You frowned, entering the room knowing good and well that something was wrong with him. Approaching him, you stopped next to him as he sat in his chair. Getting down on your knees you looked up at Sherlock while placing your hands on the arm of his chair.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Well I can see that, but what about? You seem too serious about whatever it is you’re thinking about?”

“That’s because it is serious! I can’t figure it out!” Sherlock shouted, slamming his hands down on the arms of his chair and throwing his self forward onto his feet. You watched him as he paced the room, trying his best to think but only to come up with dead ends every time. He was beyond frustrated; it was only up till now he started having problems. All the clues before were child’s play, but this one made him actually think.

“What are you having trouble with, maybe I can help?”

“I know what it has to do with! It’s the painting, the painting is a fake! But, how is it a fake? I don’t know!” You sat there and watched as Sherlock continued the one sided argument with his self. All the while you sat there thinking about the painting that he was talking about, then it suddenly all came to you like a light bulb had went off in your head.

“Um, Sherlock?”

“There has to be something there that I’m missing!”

“ _Sherlock?_ ”

“But what, what could it possibly be! I’ve looked over everything and-”

“ **Sherlock Holmes**!“ Your sudden out burst caused Sherlock to stop everything that he was doing and slowly turn towards you, a look of concern on his face. He had never heard you raise your voice to anyone, including him. He stood in the middle of the room as he watched you rise to your feet and approach him.

“You said that the man that was killed was a star gazer right?”

“Yes,”

“And he also happened to work for the museum, right?”

“Yes, I’ve already went over this, that’s how I know the painting has to be a fake! This is nothing new to me,”

“Sherlock, what if it was the wrong constellation that was painted in the painting then? Perhaps extra stars were added or taken away? I mean, there’s no way that the phony who painted it could have known the exact setting of the stars in that time period.” Sherlock stood there, completely stunned with your deduction and how you came about your answer. Suddenly, he understood just how he was able to solve this and threw his hands up in the air. You stumbled backwards, watching as Sherlock jumped around the room and clapping his hands. You thought he had finally lost it there.

“[Name], that’s a brilliant deduction!” Sherlock shouted, grabbing the sides of your face with both his hands and kissing you on the cheek before dashing off and down the stares. Hearing the front door slam, you were then able to register what just happened. Your cheek felt a flamed as you softly touched the side of your face where Sherlock had given you the overly excited kiss. You could still feel his lips lingering there from when it had happened, and you knew you wore the largest smile you had ever had before.

“Y-Yeah, glad to help, anytime.”


	6. Like a Ticking Time Bomb

You were excited when you heard that Sherlock had solved the case. You were happy that it was the end of innocent people playing that sick mind twisting game. But, you had one question, where had John and Sherlock disappeared to? You were currently pacing back and forth in Sherlock’s flat. Your aunt Hudson had already went to bed and you didn’t want to disturb her with your anxiousness. It was getting fairly late and you were starting to get worried about them. Then, there was a knock at the front door and you quickly rushed down the stairwell to go answer it.

Expecting to see Lestade you were confused to see a short, black haired man standing at your door instead. Looking at him confused, you wondered what he was doing here.

“May I help you?” He held out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. Glancing down at it, you took it and slowly gave him a shake of the hand.

“The name’s Jim. I’m a _friend_ of Sherlock Holmes.” He explained to you, making sure you understood who he was before continuing.

“Sherlock has requested me to bring you to our meeting place tonight.”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard anything about this, meeting place.”

“Well you see the thing is, he was just so excited that you helped him solve that case that he wanted to make sure that you came to a little party that we were holding.” He watched as your expression changed when he mentioned you helping Sherlock with the case he just had. You seemed to almost glow, ecstatic that you were able to help the great Sherlock with one of his cases.

“So you see, it would be kind of silly for you to not show up. Since you _did_ help him solve it,”

“Well…” You watched as this Jim looked down to check his watch that he wore. It was then you noticed the nice suit that he was wearing, something that you had missed earlier and if Sherlock were here, you knew he would have scolded you for your lack of attention.

“Come on now, we’re going to be late at this pace.” Jim held out his hand with a smile, waiting for you to take it. You stood there for a second just looking at his hand. Something deep down in your gut told you to not take it, but you decided to push it a side and go ahead and take his hand. He gave a small smile as he pulled you away from the front door and towards the cab that awaited.

As you slid into the seat you turned towards him to ask just where it was that you were headed. Only you felt a napkin that had a smell to it being shoved onto your face. You panicked and started to scream and kick at him, trying to get your mouth free. Feeling your body going numb your arms dropped to the sides and you went limp, the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was that sadistic smile.

Opening your eyes at first you couldn’t make anything out. Everything was a blur to you and you had no clue where you were. Then slowly, you noticed two small rays of blue light that were coming closer to you- no wait, you were walking towards them. Trying to speak you realized you couldn’t for the gag that was in your mouth. Slowly you were being guided forward until you hit a pair of door and finally pushed out past them.

You closed your eyes, the brightness of your surroundings blinded you. Continuing to walk you started hearing voices.

“I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

“[Name]!?” It was Sherlock, you knew it was by his voice. He sounded confused and yet there was a hint of concern in his voice, but not enough to be noticed by you, but by Jim.

“It seems that you didn’t plan for this little turn of events, did you Sherlock?”

“Let her go.” Slowly you started to open your eyes. As your vision slowly started to adjust you saw that you were in an indoor swimming area. Turning your head up to look forward, you saw Sherlock holding a gun out at you; at the man besides you. And then you saw John, who seemed to have an explosive attached to his body. Your eyes widened as you turned your head around and saw Jim was the one who had a hold on you.

He smiled at you, mouthing a “hi” as he looked at you wide eyed. This guy was a creep and he seemed crazy, you knew you should have trusted your gut and not have came with this guy.

“Jim Moriarty... Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point.” Just then, you saw a red dot appear on John’s front as it danced around his chest. Sherlock saw this too and seemed to become more on edge. You knew that he was being sniped at right now. Glancing around the room you couldn’t see where the sniper was hidden it was so dark.

“Don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a tinsy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see... like you!” Jim other wise now know as Moriarty, the man who had been watching Sherlock’s movements for months on end. You knew you were in a dangerous predicament now, he was the man behind all the bombing as you saw with John.

“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”

“Isn't it? No one ever gets to me... and no one ever will.”

“ _I_ did.” Sherlock said, his eyes fixed on Moriarty. Moriarty merely smirked and bobbed his head from side to side, his hold on you loosening until he finally fully released you and started walking towards Sherlock.

“You’ve come the closet. Now you’re in my _way_.”

“Thank you.”

“Didn’t mean that as a compliment.”

“Yes you did.” Moriarty shrugged as he continued to walk forward, his hands now in his pockets.

“Yeah okay, I did. But the flirting is over now, Sherlock, Daddy's had enough now! I've shown you what I can do, I cut lose all those people. All those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear: back off. Although I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?”

“People have died.”

“That’s what people **DO**!” You flinched as he yelled at Sherlock, watching as their arguing continued. You watched as Sherlock handed Moriarty a memory stick that had some sort of missile plans on it, you also watched as Moriarty chucked it into the pool. You sat there and watched as John rushed forward and grabbed Moriarty around the neck, yelling at Sherlock to run. Only to have the sniper change his target to Sherlock.

“It seems like we’re leaving someone out of our little game.” Moriarty chuckled, and in an instant the sniper left Sherlock and disappeared. You couldn’t see where the red dot had went. Then, when you saw both Sherlock and John’s expression you knew that it had changed to you. It was placed right on your forehead, right between your [e/c] eyes. John was quick to detach his self from Moriarty when he saw that you were now in the line of fire; literally.

“Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?” Moriarty asked while he smoothed out his suit after John had ruffled it all up. Sherlock, still aiming his gun at Moriarty gave him a cold glare as he answered dryly.

“Oh, let me guess, I get killed.”

“Kill you? Um, no. Don’t be _obvious_ I mean, I’m going to kill you anyways, someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special! No, no, no, no, if you don’t stop prying… I’ll _burn_ you. I will burn… the _heart_ out of you.”

“I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”

“Oh, but we both know that’s not quiet true,” Moriarty said, leaning his head to the side and staring deep into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock swallowed hard, glancing back over to you, who was still the target of the sniper.

“Well, I better be off. So nice to have a proper chat.”

“What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?”

“Well, then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock, I really would, and just a bit… _disappointed_. And of course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long.” Moriarty said, stepping to the side where there was an exit door. Sherlock followed him, circling around the other way, his gun never leaving his target.

“Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” he said before exiting through the doors and leaving the room. Both John and Sherlock glanced over to you, and you could see the look of relief that washed over their faces. You must not have been a target anymore. Sherlock quickly rushed over to John and nearly ripped the jacket with the explosives strapped onto and threw it past you as you started to make a mad dash for the both of them.

Not thinking, you ran into the closet one to you; Sherlock. Wrapping your arms around his waist you buried your head into his chest and felt the tears start to roll down your eyes. You were in shock, not understand what had happened or why any of you had to be involved in all of this. Slowly, you felt Sherlock wrap his arms around you and held you close. Patting your back somewhat awkwardly but soon eased into the hole thing.

“I’m glad no one saw that.” You heard John say as you pulled away from Sherlock, wiping the tears from your face.

“Mm?”

“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” Both you and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile just a little at John’s joke. You even gave a small chuckle as you continued to wipe your eyes dry with the back of your hand.

“People do little else.” Sherlock said, glancing between you and John as he held the gun down by his side. With the smile still on your face, you slowly walked over to John who you then wrapped your arms around, giving him a hug as well.

“Sorry, boys and girls! I’m _sooo_ changeable. It’s a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness,” Moriarty said as he stormed back into the swimming area though the doors where he and you had entered in through. All three of you turned around to look at him, only to have many red dots dance around your bodies. There were many more than just one sniper, they had been there all along.

“You just can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind. You wrapped your arm tighter around John and buried your head into his chest. Muttering frightening words as John pulled you in closer to him, trying his best to give you protection. Sherlock raised his gun to Moriarty once more, his eyes locked on him.

“Then probably my answer has crossed yours.” Slowly lowering the gun down he then points it at John’s explosive coat on the floor. Everyone in the room became still as a look of fright became over Moriarty’s features. Moriarty, John, and yourself all a waited for whatever was going to happen. What was Sherlock going to do in the situation you were all placed in, was he really going to pull the trigger. Or was he just buying time in order to think of a plain to get you all out of here, _alive_?


	7. You're a Mystery to me and the World

The meeting with Moriarty had to be the most frightening turn of events you had ever had in your whole life. You had moved here with your aunt to be safe, not being held hostage at gun point in an indoor swimming pool. What would your parents think if they were to hear about this? You sighed, it was early morning and you weren’t eager to get up at all, but you knew that it was required of you.

Pulling yourself from your bed, you went straight for your dresser and clothed yourself for the day. After you were done, you said your good morning to your aunt and then departed upstairs to Sherlock’s flat. Walking through the open door you were greeted with Sherlock sitting in his chair thinking like always only…

“Sherlock, where are your pants?” You seemed to have broke his thinking as he glanced over at you, the white bed sheet wrapped tightly around his- what you had guessed, nude body. Sherlock didn’t seem to mind however, he also didn’t seem to mind the look that played across your face; pure and udder embarrassment.

“My pants are folded in my drawers.” he calmly told you. You placed your hand on your forehead and rubbed it slowly. Sherlock was in one of his playing moods and you were in fact not up to it right now seeing as how it was this type of game.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant why aren’t they on _you_?”

“Simple. I did not feel like wearing them and so I did not put them on.” He said matter of fact. You sighed and decided to take the seat across from him. Sitting down you decided to look at anything else in the room but him. You could feel his gaze burning holes into your skull as you would not make eye contact for the simple fact that you did not want too.

“You know, you still haven’t told me much about you. And you’ve been here for nearly six months now.” Sherlock said, causing you to finally look at him. Allowing your hands to play with the hem of your shirt you chewed on your bottom lip. You knew he had to at least know a little about you, he knew something about everyone that he encountered.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“A little bit more specific please?”

“Why did you move in with Mrs. Hudson?”

“Because she’s my aunt.”

“A little bit more specific please?” Sherlock taunted, a smirk on his lips showing that he was enjoying using your own words against you. You folded your arms over your chest and rested back in the chair, you hated when he did that to you. It was very often but when he was in a playful or bored mood, he would use anything against you.

“Because, I was asked by her. I thought why not, a trip to London might not be such a bad idea. So, I packed up my things and moved here.”

“Alright but why?”

“Why are you so curious about me?”

“Why not?”

“Why not just read me like you do everyone else?” Sherlock stopped at this, you seemed to have caught him off guard with your sudden question. He had tried to read you when you had first moved in and was only able to get a little from you, such as you being an American and your persona. He knew that you had moved here from America but for what reasons he did not know. He knew that you were well informed when it came to art and you had a natural talent of painting and drawing.

So, why would such a skilled young woman like yourself just pack up everything and come to London to live with an aunt who you only knew through exchange of letters.

“I have read you before, but I didn’t find the specify answer I was looking for,” You tilted your head to the side a little. The great Sherlock Holmes couldn’t find what he was looking for when reading you? What did he mean by that, was he losing his touch? No, there was no way, he could read John like an open book.

“So, that’s why I’m so curious about you, [Name].” Before you could ask him anything further you heard the sound of multiple footsteps coming up the stairs. Turning your attention in the direction of the doorway, you watched as Mrs. Hudson walked in with two nicely dressed men.

“Sherlock is your doorbell not working again? He shot it is what it is!” Mrs. Hudson told the tall black man before leaving the room with a huff. You looked at the two men that were here, standing in Sherlock’s flat.

“Mr. Holmes, Miss. [Last Name], you are both come with us,” One of the other men disappeared into Sherlock’s room before quickly returning with his clothing. Placing them down onto the table next to him, he took a step back while Sherlock examined the clothing.

“And I suggest you wear some clothes for where you’re going.” You watched as Sherlock took one quick glance over the man before smirking.

“Oh, I know _exactly_ where I’m going.”


	8. Embarrassment is a Story that Tells Your Feelings

The both of you sat there on the couch in the middle of Buckingham Palace. You sat there, your face red with embarrassment as you had to sit next to Sherlock, who had _refused_ to put his clothes on before coming. Instead he was still wrapped up in his bed sheet and his clothes were folded neatly lying on the table across from the both of you. Glancing over at Sherlock you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and crossing your legs over one another.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t have put your clothes on. I mean, we’re in the middle of Buckingham Palace! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Sherlock shook his head.

“Not the slightest.” You were baffled with the logical way Sherlock seemed to think - or lack of logic, sometimes. If you had the chance you would have changed into something a little nicer than your everyday clothing. Sitting there for a while longer you and Sherlock was soon joined by John. Who had told you he had been flown in by a helicopter.

“I don’t enjoy heights, but I’m sure it was fun for you.” You tried to tell him as politely as you could. He seemed to understand and left it where it was, only after talking with you did he notice the set of clothes that set on the table across form him. Not only was there a set of clothes, but those clothes looked strangely like Sherlock’s clothes. Leaning over to look past you, he glanced at Sherlock who was holding the blanket tightly around his body.

“Are you seriously not wearing any pants underneath there?” Sherlock shook his head.

“No.” John paused to reflect on Sherlock’s answer.

“Okay.” Nodding his head slowly, seeming to take in that his friend wasn’t wearing any clothes in the middle of Buckingham Palace. After a few seconds of silence, both Sherlock and John started snickering at the very thought of it. Your mouth dropped, disappointed in Sherlock and more importantly John. However, you did see how they found it just a tad bit funny and you had to do your best to contain your own giggle fits.

“What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here to see the Queen?” You asked, finding that to be the only logical reason behind all three of you sitting on the couch here. No sooner after you said that, Mycroft- Sherlock’s elder brother, walked in through the large double doors to your left.

“Oh, apparently yes.” Both Sherlock and John started laughing again while earning a disapproving look from Mycroft. Strutting into the room as if he was royalty his self, Mycroft placed his hands down at his sides and stood straight up to his full height.

“Just once, ca you two behave like grown-ups?”

“We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.” John said, trying his best to not laugh anymore seeing how serious Mycroft was looking at him. Mycroft then seemed to turn his attention towards you. Giving a small bow he threw you an apologetic smile.

“I am sorry that you have to put up with these two, Lord knows putting up with Sherlock growing up was enough trouble to handle.” Sherlock just gave his older brother a look as if to say he resented that. Mycroft’s smile quickly dropped as he became serious once more.

“I have a client for you,”

“A client?” Sherlock asked, while another man seemed to join the room.

“Who is my client?”

“That is classified I’m afraid.” The other man said as he took a seat on the couch across from the three of you, Mycroft quickly joining him.

“Dear brother I only work with one end being a mystery, not both. Good day!” With this Sherlock promptly jumped from the couch, having both you and John following. Mycroft and the other man also jumped to their feet as Mycroft went after Sherlock. Seeing the end of his bed sheet, Mycroft placed his foot on the end. As Sherlock tried to take another step, his blanket caught on his body and dropped dangerously low.

You blushed deeply, catching an unexpected sight of Sherlock’s bottom. But the view left as quickly as it came as Sherlock yanked the blanket back up around him.

“Brother, let go of my sheets!” Sherlock ordered peeved that his elder brother was not only keeping him from leaving but also not giving him the information that he wanted in order to take this case.

“No, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll let go and walk out of here!”

“S-Sherlock!” You gasped; you had never felt as embarrassed in an entire year as you had felt within the last few hours.

“We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, for God sakes put your trousers on!” Mycroft barked. He was far beyond these childish games by now, he meant business and was ready for his little brother to stop with these childish games and grow up.

“What for?”

“Sherlock, come back here and put your clothes on. At least sit down and listen to what he has to say.” You asked, wishing for this foolishness to stop as well. This had gone much further than you had ever expected it to go. Sherlock turned around slightly, looking at you for a moment before turning around completely and walking back towards the table to retrieve his clothes. Glancing over at his brother, he promptly yanked the blanket free from underneath his feet.

“Where may I dress, _dearest_ brother?”


	9. You're Suppose to Protect Your Loved Ones

You sighed deeply as you lay on Sherlock’s couch in his empty flat. It was only you, because both John and he had called you a cab after the whole fiasco at Buckingham Palace. John had told you that he thought it was in your best interests if you went back home. Course you argued with him, pleading that you wanted to go with them to help them find those pictures that were of great importance to Sherlock’s client.

You had learned- after Sherlock had finally cooperated with his brother and listened to what he had to say, that there was a woman out there whose name was Irene Adler. She was professionally known as “The Woman” as her job title was a ‘Dominatrix’. Sherlock had figured out that she had these pictures that had a certain someone in them as the two of them did certain things in these pictures.

After all was said and done, Sherlock had told his brother to just give up and give her the money that she wanted. You were suppressed to find out that she didn’t want any type of payment for them. That’s when both you and Sherlock deducted that it wasn’t ever for money in the first place, but for black mail. After the meeting was over you were sent back home, not only John had told you to leave, but also Sherlock.

You were frustrated with the both of them, repeatedly telling them that you were an adult and that you could take care of yourself. The argument ended with Sherlock shouting in your face and pointing in the general direction of home.

_“Go home!”_

He was inches away from your face and bending over slightly. You had never wanted so badly to punch him in the face in all your life. Balling your fists up, you chose at the last second to not hit him as the cab pulled up to the side walk that John had called for you. As John held the door open for you, you had given Sherlock a hateful look and walked past him. Before stepping inside the cab you turned around to look at him once more before screaming at him.

_“You’re such an ass! But maybe you wouldn’t be one if you got laid for the first time in your life!”_

You had defiantly shocked both John and Sherlock when you climbed into the cab. They both watched it pulled away from the curb and had brought you back here to 211B Baker Street, where you were now laying curled up in a ball on Sherlock’s couch. You sighed; perhaps you were a little bit too hard on them. You knew that they were both just trying to look out for your well being, they were your friends after all. After all, what would you aunt say to them if you had gotten hurt while on one of their cases?

You laughed to yourself as you had just contradicted yourself about being an adult and you were able to take care of yourself, you were actually surprised you had caught yourself. But, spending the last seven months with Sherlock Holmes you tended to pick up a few things here and there every now and again. Being pulled from your thoughts by the front door opening, you jumped up from the couch frantically as there were shouts from John downstairs as he shouted for your help.

Rushing downstairs you were brought into an even bigger panic when you saw John trying to carry Sherlock into the house by his self. You rushed to his side to grab Sherlock’s other arm and take some of the weight off of John.

“What the hell happened to him?” John and yourself tried together to get him up the stairs into Sherlock’s flat. It was hard with such the small staircase, all three of you had to squish together in order to maneuver up the narrow walkway. Once upstairs and into Sherlock’s flat, the both of you took him to his room and laid him on the bed. You were quick to climb onto the bed and try to look over Sherlock. Holding his face in your hands you noticed the cut.

“It was Adler; she gave him something that made him pass out. Don’t worry though; after some sleep he should be fine.”

“Did she hit him too?” John seemed to look the other way before coughing into his hand.

“Um, no, that was, um, that was me who had hit him.”

You looked at John with disbelief. He returned a look that said it was his idea. Shaking your head you sighed while taking a seat next to Sherlock on his bed. Looking down at him, you were glad that you didn’t go. You were glad that you were forced to come back here instead after what had happened with Sherlock. Grabbing his sheets, you pulled them up over him to make sure that he wouldn’t grow cold in the middle of the night. Then, you noticed something that something was missing.

“John, where's his coat?”


	10. Knowing More Than You Think

The next morning after you woke up from sleeping on Sherlock’s couch- John said that it was best to watch him throughout the night to make sure he would be okay, you awoke to see John still a sleep in the chair from across the room. He too had staid there all night, apart from the incident when Sherlock woke up in the middle of the night and kept mumbling gibberish as he stumbled around his bedroom.

Sitting up on the couch you made sure to stretch out well before standing. Once up, you made your way to the bathroom having to use it first thing in the morning. Opening the door opened just as soon as you were about to grab the handle. There standing in the door way looking down at you, was Sherlock. It seems that he had just awoken as well with how groggy he looked.

“Oh, good morning.” he said as he seemed to linger in the doorway. You scratched the back of your head, not knowing what to say. The last time you talked with him was when you told him to _‘get bent’_.

“Um, good morning.” Sherlock seemed to be satisfied with these simple words as he walked around you after words. You stood there for a moment longer as he made his way to his bedroom, pondering on if you should say something about what happened yesterday. By the time you had made up your mind, Sherlock had already shut his bedroom door. You sighed and decided to just go on with your day as it was while you shut the bathroom door behind you.

Some hours later, you had walked back upstairs- after a trip to your room for a few hours by yourself, only to find both Sherlock and John sitting at the computer. Turning your head, you noticed that Mycroft was also here. He was standing in front of the mantel looking sternly at Sherlock. You felt your blood boil when your eyes first landed on him. And walking from the doorway you walked over towards Mycroft with your finger lifted at him, ready to pounce.

“I can’t believe you!” You shouted, catching all three of the men’s attention. John shot up from his seat and grabbed you by the shoulders trying his best to hold you back. Mycroft just looked at you stunned as you continued to point and bark at him.

“Sending your little brother into danger like that, how could you!”

“Now, [Name].” John whispered, trying to calm you down as he struggled to hold you. You looked over your shoulder at him; he had a pleading look in his eyes. With the frown still deep on your face you snapped your head back towards Mycroft.

“No John, it’s a disgrace! Family is all we have in the end, and Mycroft needs to learn that!”

“Oh, shut up, Miss. [Last Name]!”

“Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted from his spot from across the room. He had a stern look that could skin a cat in more ways than one. John on the other hand, was standing there still holding your shoulders but only now his mouth was hanging open. Mycroft stood there for a long while, debating on what to say. Finally, he looked down at you with a small apologetic smile as he gave a small nearly unseen bow forward.

“Apologies.” You continued to frown deeply and stare at him. When John finally figured that you weren’t going to bite Mycroft’s face off anymore, he slowly loosened his grip on your shoulders until you pulled out from underneath him and started to walk into the kitchen.

Before you could even step inside there was a loud feminine moan that made you stop dead in your tracks. Spinning around, you noticed both John and Mycroft looking over at you wide eyed. You blushed as your hands quickly shot up in self defense.

“I-It wasn’t me!” Both men looked at you confused before turning to look at Sherlock.

“Yes of course not, it was me.” He told them both. Picking up his phone he checked it before placing it back down on the table without giving any reply. You stood there from across the room, your mind boggling about many things as you tried to straighten them all out. There was soon another famine moan that was given, showing that Sherlock had gotten another text. And once again he repeated the same action as before; reading it without giving a reply.

“Sherlock, why does your phone make that noise?” You heard John ask in a hushed tone. Sherlock just flipped through the paper that he was reading, acting as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“What noise?”

“That noise, that one it just made,”

“It makes that noise when I receive a text,”

“Yes I know but, _why_?”

“Obviously because someone thought it would be funny to change my tone alert for incoming text messages from that contact.” That’s when it hit you, the part that did not make any scene to you. Walking over to Sherlock’s side you glanced down at him while having him glance up at you.

“But, you carry your phone in your jacket pocket,”

“Yes?”

“Your jacket was missing last night.” The gaze between both you and Sherlock lasted a good while. You had expected him to say something smart or ass like, but instead he only did one thing. He turned his head back around to his newspaper and buried his head deeper into the black and white text.


	11. Music the Art of Conversation

It didn’t take you long to figure out that the phone had been taken and changed by that woman, Irene Adler. It also didn’t take you long to figure out that something was different about Sherlock. You didn’t know what it was that made him different but it was something. He seemed to be deeper in thought lately, but you couldn’t ever figure out what made him that way. You hoped it wasn’t anything bad, after all he was your friend.

As Christmas was only a few months away you had to prepare early in order to have gifts ready for everyone. As you were locked away in your room downstairs you had the music blasting out American pop through the small speakers of your stereo. Though, it didn’t matter how loud you played it because nobody was home. As you danced around your room - your paint brush in hand, you placed the tip of the brush onto the white canvas and started to allow the blank space to flood alive with color.

When you were ready for a new color, you merely took the paint brush and wiped away the brush on your white apron. You weren’t one for looks or careful about where the paint may have gotten on you. That’s just how you were. You had paint all over your clothing and even your face as you brought the canvas to life. Getting ready to place the brush back onto the white surface you pulled away when a loud banging nose sounded.

Someone was banging on your bedroom door, but who? Not wanting anyone to see what you were working on, you quickly covered the unfinished piece of work before walking over to your shelf and turning off the music. Hearing the loud knocking at your door again, you rushed over to it and opened it up only to see Sherlock standing in your doorway.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t think anybody was home.”

“Well you were wrong, [Name]. I’m upstairs trying to think and cannot because of this loud,” Sherlock paused, trying to collect his thoughts before insulting your choice of music.

“-Idiotic American music!” The both of you just stood there, you didn’t know what to say. Sherlock had never been so mean with you. Perhaps something really was bothering him and he was taking it out on the people around him. You just looked away, feeling hurt after being in such a good mood a moment ago.

“Are you… painting?” Your eyes met Sherlock’s and you saw that look he gets when he figured out another clue. You knew he had just learned something else about you, perhaps even a few things with the way you looked right now. You nodded and noticed that Sherlock looked eager to go into your room. You rolled your eyes, he had never been in your room and up till now this was the first time he had ever been at your doorway.

“I didn’t know you were an artist.”

“Well, it’s a hobby of mine.”

“Do you paint often?”

“Only when I’m in a good mood.”

“So you’re normally depressed?”

“N-no, I also have to have the time to paint. Why are you suddenly so curious about all this?”

“… No reason.” Sherlock said looking down at the yellow blotches of paint you had smeared on your skin. You knew he was using them as clues but the way he was just constantly looking at you, it made you self conscience. Chewing on your bottom lip you started tapping your fingers against the side of the door.

“So, are we done here? I’ll keep the music down, promise.” Sherlock looked at you for a moment longer before trying to get a sneak peek into your room- which he couldn’t see much due to you holding the door to where he could only see a few things on your shelf and the colors of your walls. Glancing down at you, he nodded.

“Yes, just do keep the music down.” And with that he walked away back to his room most likely. You shut your door with a sigh, something Sherlock could be like a child who asked nothing but questions. Shaking your head you turned around and headed back to your canvas where you still had a lot of work that had to be done.


	12. The Happy Ones are Always the Saddest

Sherlock sat in his thinking chair, his hands clasped together while resting his head against them. He was thinking deeply about his little visit down to [Name]’s room. There were so many questions spinning through his head that he merely had to find the answers to. He had deducted much from what little he was able to see and it was all thanks to the paint that was splattered all over your clothing.

Hearing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, he knew it was John returning from the store. John didn’t even have time to enter through the doorway before Sherlock pounced to his findings on [Name].

“She’s depressed.” John stopped on his way into the kitchen, still holding the bags he just looked at Sherlock questionably.

“Who?”

“[Name],”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she paints.” John rolled his head to the side; Sherlock wasn’t making any sense yet again. Sherlock noticed this though his eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him.

“And it’s because she paints that I found out she was depressed. When I went down to her room earlier she answered the door covered in paint, meaning that she doesn’t care about her appearance.” Sherlock stood from his chair and was now pacing about the room like he normally did when he was explaining something. John stood in the kitchen and listened to what he was saying, all the while frowning.

“And what person doesn’t care about their appearance in today’s new age?”

“Someone who doesn’t care about what other people think?”

“No you idiot, depressed people! They don’t care because looking good isn’t one of their biggest concerns! There’s something else that is troubling her, something much deeper than making sure she’s dressed well.” John sighed.

“Sherlock, when most people are behind closed doors they don’t _care_ what they look like, because their alone.”

“Yes John, but when she answered the door she didn’t even make an obligation to change her clothes or wipe off her face. She didn’t know who was at her door and still answered it as the way she was; therefore she had more worries on her mind. Therefore she. Is. _Depressed!_ “ Sherlock shouted, throwing his arms up in the air with a large smile. John just stood there, his head tilted to the side slightly just looking at him. John was at a loss for words, trying to figure out what to say after Sherlock had explained everything. Now that John started to think about it, [Name] was one of the happiest people that he had ever known and you know what they say about people who are always happy, their depressed.

“Okay, so say she _is_ depressed, what are we suppose to do about it?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, it’s just merely a clue to a much bigger deduction! Now, if only I could find out what makes [Name] so depressed I will have nearly solved her puzzle.” John looked at him, confused as to one key word.

“Nearly? What do you mean you would have nearly solved her puzzle?” Sherlock didn’t say anything as he turned his back to John and went back to his thinking chair. John took a couple of steps, approaching Sherlock.

“Do you mean to tell me that you _don’t_ know everything about [Name]?” When Sherlock didn’t reply John figured he had went back into his mind castle trying to figure out the questions he had. John gave an irritable sigh and left the room heading back downstairs to retrieve the bags that he had left at the bottom of the stairs. When John reached the bottom of the stairs he wasn’t expecting to see you reaching down for the bags. When you saw him, you gave him a small smile while picking up the bags.

“I see you were able to go to the store without getting into a fight with the check out machines.” John couldn’t help but chuckle from the joke, though it was embarrassing. Walking up to him, you handed him his bags and with a small thank you, he took them from you. He noticed that you were no longer covered in paint as Sherlock had described you before.

“Dinner should be ready in a little bit, if you’re hungry?”

“Oh yeah,”

“Right then, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” John said, redundantly turning away from you and heading back upstairs to deal with not only the task of cooking supper for the three of you, but putting up with Sherlock’s _logical_ reasoning’s.


	13. The Line is Always so Thin

“[Name] dear, how are you settling into life in London?”

Looking up from the kitchen table, your eyes met with Mrs. Hudson’s. Flash back of the night you had been taken captive by Jim Moriarty skimmed through your brain. Then, the arguments with Sherlock on the day of him being drugged by Irene Adler came. Finally, you just smiled at your aunt.

“Oh, I guess everything is alright.”

“That’s lovely to hear dear.” Mrs. Hudson said walking over with a kettle of hot water and poured it into your tea cup. Tea was something that you had still not gotten use to. You were use to your American drinks such as soda and energy drinks, but you slowly became acceptant to the sweet caffeine free drink. Picking up your tea cup you placed it to your lips and slowly sipped on the warm liquid. Your eyes wandered to the window, watching as the snow slowly started to fall from the clouded grey sky.

“So, have you found yourself a nice young man yet?” You chocked on your tea, causing yourself to cough frantically. Mrs. Hudson just looked at you from her seat across from you, not expecting that to be your reaction. Once you had calmed yourself, you looked to her with a small frown.

“W-Well, I don’t really think that a young man is in my agenda as of right now.” Mrs. Hudson frowned slightly as she sighed and shook her head.

“Really, such a smart young lady like yourself should be thinking about finding someone who is right for you.” You couldn’t help but laugh at your aunt’s complement. You knew she meant well, but you honestly weren’t the type who went out looking for men to hook up with and start a relationship. Besides, your current situation didn’t really leave you with much time for yourself. Speaking of that, you listened as you heard footsteps dashing down the stairs and out the front door.

You knew Sherlock had ran out of the house for something, what that something was though you didn’t know and knew that you did not want to know. Glancing at the clock that was placed on the kitchen wall you noticed that it was nearly ten o’clock at night, which only raised more questions as to where Sherlock was headed to this late at night.

You sat there for a few minutes longer before you excused yourself from the kitchen table. Mrs. Hudson watched as you went into your room to grab your coat. It didn’t take much to know that you were headed out to see where Sherlock was going. She merely shook her head and a small smile crossed her face as she went to put your cup in the sink.

“I swear, if those two were anymore curious than what they were there would be no more mysteries.”

Walking outside you noticed Sherlock’s footsteps head down the sidewalk. You became even more curious when you saw he didn’t take a cab, so you figured he must have been headed somewhere close by. Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you trudged through the chilly London streets as you followed the footprints. You must have walked a good ten or fifteen minutes- nearly running down the sidewalk most of the time, before you had caught up close enough to Sherlock to where you could see his backside a few yards ahead of you.

You tried your best to keep your distance from him, but at the same time you were trying to not lose him. Suddenly you noticed he turned into an ally and you were then reluctant to follow him. You had no idea what he was doing, but you figured he had found out you were behind him, trying to find out where he was headed. Finally making up your mind you turned into the ally and walked a little into the dark and cold path, You then noticed that you couldn’t see him anymore, he was no longer ahead of you.

“Why are you following me?” You jumped, not expecting to hear the deep British voice from beside you. Turning slightly, you saw Sherlock emerge from the shadows of the ally way. You frowned deeply, pulling your jacket tighter around you once more.

“No reason.”

You said, turning back around and starting to leave the ally. Sherlock was quick after you, grabbing your arm and keeping you in place. You found this annoying and pulled away from his grasp. Shooting him a look that meant you weren’t up to his games you started to walk away again.

“Why are you so depressed?” You stopped dead in your tracks. The question had thrown you off guard and you weren’t expecting it. Turning around you looked at him confused.

“What is it that makes you so depressed that you have to forget about everything else and hide behind a smile?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sherlock,”

“Yes you do, don’t try to worm your way out of this.” You gave an irritable sigh while rubbing the side of your head. Sometimes Sherlock could be nothing but one major headache to you. Hearing the crunching of snow your eyes flickered over to see him approaching you. He stopped just a few inches away from you; his gaze was hard as he was trying his best to read you.

“What is it that made you run away from America?

“What makes you think I ran away?”

“Because you’re here, and not there.” You rolled your eyes; this was getting old and fast. Sherlock Holmes was a man who needed answer, they were like his drug. If he didn’t have his clues and puzzles you were sure that he would slowly kill himself or everyone else around him.

“Okay, first off I’m not depressed so stop saying I am. Secondly, I came here because I was asked too. Now, get that through your head and stop coming up with these silly conclusions because you’re at a dead end of your puzzle!” You shouted, your warm breath hitting the air at uneven speeds making you gasp for air after you were done. Sherlock just looked you over, his eyes boring into your skull. You knew he was looking for anything that he could use to explain that he was right and you were depressed. Unknown to you, he did indeed find something but it wasn’t the something he was looking for.

“Right then… well, I suppose you’re right. Shall we head home now?” Your eyes widened, confusion was the only thing you felt right now. Sherlock pushed past you and started to slowly make his way out of the ally. Putting your hands in your coat pocket you took a few steps back before finally turning around and started to walk out of the ally way, following him back to the apartment where you soon both went to your separate rooms.

Heading up to his own room Sherlock ignored John- who was annoying to him right now, and went straight to his bedroom and locked himself in there. Not minding to take his coat off he flopped down onto the bed and locked his eyes with the white ceiling that was above him. He growled in annoyance covering his face with his hands.

He was so stupid, why hadn’t he seen it before. It wasn’t as if it was hard to see, he merely got the two mixed up. It wasn’t that you were depressed- no it was actually the exact opposite of that. He noticed that when he approached you, your pupils dilated and your breathing became uneven before you even started shouting at him. Sherlock sighed loudly, running his hands down his face before allowing them to fall to the side on the bed.

“She’s not depressed you idiot, she’s in love.”


	14. You Can't Understand Emotion if You Don't Have Them

Today was your first Christmas Eve in London in the apartment building of 221 B Baker Street. You would have never guessed that Sherlock was the type to allow any type of get together- with living breathing human beings, in his and Watson’s flat. You also would have never expected him to allow any type of decorations, but it seems that Sherlock once again surprised you.

Currently, Sherlock was playing a Christmas song on his violin and facing the window. You stood behind the arm chair where Mrs. Hudson sat while talking with Lestrade. He was a nice enough man, nothing like the way Sherlock described him. Then there was John and one of his new girlfriends, a school teacher you believed, and someone whom John gave most of his attention to that night.

You didn’t mind, you were content talking with Lestrade and listening to Sherlock’s beautiful musical talents. When the song was over, you could help but smile and clap along with Mrs. Hudson, who found the medley beautiful. Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head in the direction only to see Sherlock looking at you intently. You felt as if you were the center of attention and did not enjoy it, turning away from him you continued your conversation with Lestrade.

“Hello everyone!” A young feminine voice sounded from the doorway. Turning your head you noticed another young woman walking into the flat. You raised an eye, wondering who this red-haired woman could have been. You had never seen her before but you guessed that she knew Sherlock or John from somewhere.

“The sign on the door said to just come up.” She said, smiling widely as her eyes never left Sherlock but once to remove her jacket with John’s help.

“Ah, Molly it’s good to see you could make it.” John said, taking her jacket off only to revile a long black and grey dress that seemed to cling to her figure. You rolled your eyes, you hated when women tried to show off by wearing something that was much more than necessary. You had no liking for people like that, people who had to be the center of attention all the time and- oh wait, you were staying to Sherlock, never mind.

“Well, Molly that’s some dress.” Mrs. Hudson said, complementing Molly. Molly smiled and thanked Mrs. Hudson before turning towards Lestade who had lead her off to prepare her a drink. Heading into the kitchen Molly stopped next to you with a smile still on her face.

“Oh, hello there, what’s your name?”

“The name’s [Name].” You stated, sipping on your alcoholic beverage and converting your eyes else where in the room. Molly seemed uneasy, noticing your lack of interest in her.

“[Name] right, it’s nice to meet you, [Name]. If you don’t mind my asking what’s your relationship to Sherlock? How do you know him?” Your eyes flickered over to her for a split second before your gaze landed back on Sherlock who seemed interested in your conversation with Molly.

“I guess you could say I’m his other flat mate.” Molly seemed very uneasy with this now, not expecting someone as young and pretty as you to be a flat mate with Sherlock, the man who she had fallen head over heels for. With worry taking over her, she started to ramble as she always did.

“O-oh, you’re flat mates, and you’re a girl,” You raised an eye, having her catch this it only made her rambling worsen.

“W-which is alright as long as you’re being proper with each other and not shagging--!” Choking on your drink it was almost as if the whole room fell into silence. Everyone’s eyes were on you, which didn’t help the situation. John’s eyes were wide as were Mrs. Hudson and Lestade’s. You were blushing like a mad woman as Molly stood there at a loss for words. Glancing over at Sherlock you noticed the poker face expression that he wore as he looked between everyone else in the room- since they had turned their gaze to him once they were done looking at you.

“S-Sherlock?” John asked dryly. Sherlock just looked at John as if he were stupid.

“Oh of course we’re not.. _shagging_ ,” Sherlock explained seeming to ease the tension though out the room just a little. Mrs. Hudson seemed more relived more than the rest of them.

“I have more important things to do with my time then silly little interactions with [Name].” Sherlock said giving Molly a _‘as-a-matter-of-fact’_ look before turning to look at the bag of presents that Molly had brought up with her. He smirked, reaching down to pick up the top box that was wrapped in red warping paper.

“Besides, _love_ seems to be on your mind, Miss. Molly. What with the way you nicely wrapped this present and used the red paper to correspond with your lips stick- weather or not you’ve realized it is completely unknown, but you used it to confiscate for your body and brea--” Sherlock seemed to pause when he read who the gift was for. Glancing up, he had given Molly a shocked look as she continued to stand there now feeling most uncomfortable and looking as if she was on the brink of tears.

“You always say the most horrible things you know.” Frowning deeply, Sherlock took two large steps over to Molly. Leaning down he placed a soft apologetic kiss on the side of her cheek, slowly leaning back.

“I do apologize, Molly, I meant no harm.” You watched as everything seemed to happen. You had never seen this side of Sherlock before, not even with yourself. You were shocked to say that you never believed that Sherlock could show any sorts of compassion to any other living human being. But, as quickly as this little moment between Molly and Sherlock started, it ended with Sherlock’s phone giving off the feminine moan.

“O-oh my! T-That wasn’t me!” Molly examined taking a step back and glancing at everyone in the room. You shook your head slowly, getting tired of hearing that text tone of Sherlock’s. You could have sworn that it was 52 times that you had heard that tone, knowing that it was Irene Adler. Watching as Sherlock went for the mantel, you seen a small box that was wrapped in red warping paper with a rather large black ribbon wrapped around it, sealing the small box. Sherlock said nothing as he made a be-line for his room when he had the box in his hands.

You looked over at John, whom seemed to be looking at you. Then as if it was a silent conversation, John stood from the couch.

“Right then, I’ll go check on him.”

Little did you know that your ‘cheerful’ night was about to take a turn for the worst.


	15. Sometimes Love is Unknown to the World

Irene Adler, the woman whom you never once met, was dead. You were shocked when you heard the news about her death; Sherlock was the one who told both you and John. Shortly after the news, he went to the morgue to identify the body. Right after he left there was a call from his brother, Mycroft, asking for you and John to search for some type of phone that was once Miss. Adler’s; you had no such luck in finding it.

“I checked the bedroom, but I didn’t see anything.” You said, walking out into the living room empty-handed. John frowned as he seemed to be on the phone with Sherlock’s brother.

“There’s no sign of the phone anywhere,” John said into the phone. He must have received a reply that he didn’t like because he started to argue with Mindcraft, saying something about having a date tonight. You were too busy worrying about Sherlock to really care about what John had planned tonight. You could tell with the way Sherlock acted after he found her phone that something was terribly wrong with him. You even started to wonder if Sherlock had feelings for this woman whom you had never met.

“But, I have a date.” You heard John say, knowing that Mycroft wanted John to do something for him. You guessed it was to stay home and keep an eye on Sherlock, because you knew that Mindcraft was very protective over his little brother; though it was hard to see it at times. With a sigh John hung up the phone and gave you a tired look before walking over to the couch where his current girlfriend was sitting.

You watched in amusement as John tried his best to talk to the woman but she wanted no part in any of it. It seemed that she was tired of having to compete with Sherlock, though you didn’t understand why she thought John and him were a couple. She had had the last of it when John had offered to walk her dogs for her, only to remember that she didn’t have any, it was his last girlfriend who had the dogs.

Listening to her storm downstairs you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for John. You knew that he was trying his best to find a girlfriend and perhaps someday settle down with them, but Sherlock was making things much harder on him then what they needed to be. John hardly had any time to himself- let alone any time for someone else, he needed someone who understood that his so called _friendship_ with Sherlock was an important part of his everyday life.

Walking up beside him, you placed your hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze. When you were met with his brown eyes you smiled up at him, he returned the smile though it was a much sadder one.

“Don’t worry John, you’ll find someone one day who will understand that they don’t have to compete with Sherlock Holmes.” John gave a small chuckle and shook his head, knowing that you were trying to make him feel better, and if he were to say it was helping out a bit. Feeling your hand leave his shoulder he watched as you started to walk towards the couch, knowing that you were planning on waiting for Sherlock as well. As he watched you take your seat, your words still echoed in the back of his mind until an idea came.

“Say, [Name]?” John said, getting your attention as you glanced at him from the couch. You could see that he seemed nervous about something.

“Yeah John?”

“Well, I was just wondering if maybe you’d like, if maybe you’d like to go out to dinner with me sometime. That is if you don’t have any plans or anything.” You couldn’t help but allow a smile to slip to your lips as you watched John standing there as he blinked his eyes rapidly, a sure sign of his nervousness.

“Yeah sure, I’d love too.”


	16. The Final Breaking Point for the Both of Us

You were running, running as fast as your feable legs could carry yourself as you swiftly ran through the darkness of the ally-way. Your breath was quivering as you heard the foot steps that sounded behind you, their echoing growing louder informing you that they were gainning on you. You were nearly in tears as you came to the end of the ally-way; a 12-foot fence blocking your means of escape. Your fingers laced in the the holes of the fence as you lowered your head and tried to catch your breath, cursing underneath your quivering lip.  
  
"No where else to run, love." You slowly turned to face the mad-man that had been responcible for killing nearly 12 other women around your own age. Your breath was quick while sweat trickled down your face: this was the end of the line.  
  
"You haven't tried nearly as hard as the rest, which is a pitty because I so love the chase." His sick snicker came as he pulled a dear-carving-knife from out of his jacket sleeve. You licked your dry lips, your face pale as the color was long gone.

  
"You're not going to get away with this!" He laughed darkly, his approach never missed a beat as he raised the blade to his lips and ran this tounge across the side of the blade. The wild look in his eyes was burning with such an intense flame that you felt as if you were burning just from his gaze.

  
"They all said that little line-- before I slit their pretty little throat and silenced them." You backed up to the fence, no where else to go and no where else to run as he cornered you like a rat. He was so focused on you at the moment that he was ignorant to the several footsteps that was approaching behind him. He was so into the game that he was deaf to the man who approached him from behind.

  
"Too bad that's one _pretty little throat_ that you won't be able to slit, Jack." Your eyes widened as your lips turned into an instant smile and shouted your savior's name. The crazy killer; Jack, turned to face the same man in which he instantly recognized and due to the name he knew that it was indeed him.

  
"Sherlock Holmes. Here to ruin my mouse hunt, go figure."  
  
"How inconvenient for you to be chasing a mouse that's already been caught by the cat." Sherlock mocked, though he lacked the smirk at the moment. He gave the man Jack a very deep and serious look as he slowly approached the armed man.

"Jack Hamliton A.K.A Jack The Ripper. You're rather famous for getting ahold of pretty girls and taking certian orgains from them." Sherlock spoke as he walked closer to Jack, who was still armed with his large knife. You watched closely as Sherlock's eyes never left the man's and came to a stop not too far. Jack's head twisted around as he rolled his shoulders as if relaxing his eager self and a sick and twisted smile came to his lips.

"I never did enjoy the sluts. Going around and selling out their bodies to whoever would pay them for their company-"

"Ah yes, but the young lady you currently have cornered isn't a prostitute nor were the last five woman you killed in cold blood." Jack's sick smile only grew more as he chuckled loudly and shook his head.

"They're all sluts to me. Any woman that even so much looks at a man is a whore!" And Jack lunged toward Sherlock with the knife raised. You screamed out, fearing for your friend. Hearing gun fire sound in the distance made Jack stop his pounce on Sherlock and you watched as Lestrade and some other members of the British police came to your rescue; John among them. It didn't take them long to capture Jack and take him downtown for booking and he awaited trail. But, even though Jack was now off the streets thanks to your help, Sherlock wasn't happy at all with the whole thing.

  
"I told you to stay out of this!" He barked at you in the middle of the scene as Jack was being placed into the squad car. You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest and gave Sherlock one of your looks.

"I didn't think he'd actually come after me! He only goes after those pretty girls and-"

"He came after you! That's the point of this whole thing! I told you to stay indoors while this loon was running about the streets of London and what do you do, you go out and trying to find him on your own!" About now, half of the police force was watching as you and Sherlock both screamed at each other in the middle of the ally-way. Your face was red with anger as the color came back from being scared to death. Sherlock's was red with anger as you had disobeyed him.

"That's the problem with you, you never listen!"

"And that's your problem too, Sherlock Holmes! You never listen or take into consideration of other people's feelings! All you care about are your stupid cases and your stupid little puzzles!" When the fight rose to this, John knew that things weren't going to end well for the both of them and so he quickly rushed in between the two of them, but nothing he said seemed to make the matters any better.

"There's more to life than trying to play God with people's lives Sherlock! Too bad you're so smart that you're stupid!" Before Sherlock could make a comeback you turned and quickly walked away from him. He watched as you rushed away from him, your hands in your pockets and your head hanging low. You had enough of him for the night, actually for the rest of the week. You felt the anger boiling to the point where you didn't know what to do anymore. Your legs became wobbly and made you off balance as you started to stumble through the streets of London like a drunkard as you tried to make your way back home before the tears started falling.

Too bad you didn't make it in time.


	17. You're so Sure of Yourself but You're so Wrong

Everything had finally seemed to have fallen apart for you and everything that you had come to love about England. You laid on your bed in your room as your mind boggled with everything that had transpired between yourself and Sherlock Holmes. You had tried so hard to understand him and put up with him, but it seemed that you had failed in every possible way. And now, you had only made matters worse by yelling at him after he had just saved you from becoming the next victim.  
  
You heard a knock on your door, but you were too dis-enabled to even care about answering it. After the second knock the door came open and you watched as Sherlock walked into your room slowly. You sighed, wishing he wasn't here right now and in your room at that. Sherlock took a moment to look around your room, no doubt trying to determined you and your past by the look of your room. But, unlike other women your age your room certainly wasn't decorated in the way it should.  
  
"Bad childhood experience." Sherlock muttered with a small frown. You scoffed, not understanding what he was talking about when he looked around your dull room. You never had a bad childhood experience; at least not one so bad that it ruined you for the rest of your life. Sure, there were the bullies at school and the thoughts to end your life just like every normal teen-age kid when you were younger, but you were older now and you were far past the thoughts of taking your own life over such idiotic thoughts.  
  
"No Sherlock, wrong _again_."  
  
You answered with a deep and drawn out sigh. You knew that it peeved him and that he wouldn't believe you becuase after all, he was the great Sherlock Holmes. He was never wrong. Sherlock looked around the room some more, his gaze hardening as he exzamed the room closer before he turned and locked eyes with you.  
  
"Something happened in your childhood that caused you to have to grow up quicker than everyone else; hints your room at your age." You rolled your eyes as you continued to lay sprawled out on your bed. Your room wasn't all that "grown-up" it had it's childhood in some places. There was your old movie collection that held nearly every Walt Disney movie from the late 80's all the way to the end of the 90's. And then your paint set, childhood family photos, and a few stuffed animals. Besides that, yes, the room was rather dull with a stereo, bookshelf with _Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling, Christmas Carol by Lewis Carole, Steven King's by Steven King_ , and many other adult books.  
  
"If I had some tragedy happen in my childhood, then why would I have childhood family pictures hanging on my wall?" You asked, wondering if that would stump Sherlock. However, it didn't it just made his explanation continue on when you only wished it would stop.  
  
"Someone you use to love did something to you, someone who isn't in any of these photos on the wall." You pushed yourself up off your bed and threw your legs over the side of the edge and shook your head.  
  
"No, Sherlock. That's not it."  
  
"No, I know that's not it, because there's more to it than just only that!" You groaned, when was this man ever going to learn! You pushed yourself off your bed and started to walk past him, only to have him grab you and hold you in place. You scoffed and glanced up at him with a glare as he held you there and gazed down at you with a nearly equal hardened gaze.  
  
"You're afraid to love because of this incident! Whatever happened in your past was so bad for you that you fled America and came here to England! You left everything that reminded you of that person behind so that you wouldn't remember what happened!" You had heard enough of this foolishness that he was spewing. You struggled to get out of his grip and tried to pull away, but you failed as Sherlock only held onto your tighter to the point where your arms started to hurt. You groaned out from the discomforting pain that he was unaware he was causing you as he tried to figure you out.  
  
"Sherlock, let me go! You're wrong, nothing like that even happened!"  
  
"That's why you're afraid! That's why you want to help John and I when we're working! That's why you get so upset when we tell you to stay out of things! You don't want to lose anyone else that matters to you!" The room fell silent as the two of you just stood there in the middle of your bedroom. You felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat as you shook your head slowly before releasing your held breath.  
  
" _You couldn't be more wrong, Sherlock Holmes._ " You whispered. Whipping your arms out from his hold as he stood there shocked from your answer. You turned to take your leave as your name was called out by the man as you reached the door, causing you to pause.  
  
"Then why do you worry so much about John and myself?" His words hit your ears and you slowly continued to open your bedroom door.  
  
"Because, friends protect each other." You told him as you walked out from the room and left him standing there to pondering on your words.


	18. He's in Good Hands

"You need a new case." John said, glancing up from behind his paper and viewing Sherlock's bored expression. Sherlock's gaze lingered out the rain covered window. Sighing deeply, Sherlock turned and took a small glimpse toward John and groaned as he lolled his head back and forth.  
  
"What's the point?" Sherlock muttered, causing John to drop his paper into his lap and look as if he didn't hear Sherlock correct; he couldn't have heard him correct.  
  
"What's the point? Are you seriously asking me what's the point?" John mocked, severely worried about his friend's mental state.  
  
 "I can't even figure out [Name]!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs before scrambling up from his chair and walking toward the fireplace mantle. John glanced around the room confused. Sherlock, one of the smartest men John knew, was unable to figure out a girl nearly half his age? This did worry John exponentially when Sherlock actually admitted this to him.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" John questioned. He watched as Sherlock shook his head and ruffled his hair with his hands and groaned loudly in frustration.  
  
"Every time I think I'm getting closer to figuring her out, she slips through my fingers again!" Sherlock explained.  
  
"First, I thought it was depression. Then I thought love-"  
  
"Love? Love who? Love [Name]?" John asked shocked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and threw his arms all around in even more frustration for having to explain everything to John.  
  
"No, no, no! Not me love her! She love m-" Sherlock paused, everything winding around in his head moving at a million miles an hour. Everything that had happened just flashed before his eyes. From that time she wanted to come on cases with them, to her following him in the snow, and then with Adler, and finally... my god!  
  
John waited with his mouth half way open and his head turned to the side as he watched Sherlock standing there as he had stopped in mid-sentence. Suddenly, Sherlock bolted from the room and raced downstairs while ignoring John's shouting as he left the man in the room even more confused than before. Sherlock raised around the corner and nearly ran into Miss. Hudson as he ran to your room. He knocked on the door several times before a confused Miss. Hudson came to check on Sherlock.  
  
"She's not here dear." Sherlock quickly turned around to face the older woman and rushed to her and grabbing her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.  
  
"Where is she then, I need to speak to her!" Miss. Hudson shook her head, not really sure where her niece had wandered off to.  
  
"She had gotten a text from someone and told me she was going out. That's all I know dear."  
  
"When, when did she leave?"  
  
"Just before you came running into the kitchen." With this information, Sherlock released Miss. Hudson and sprinted out the door and raced down the street after figuring out which way you had went and was then hot on your trail.  
  
You were confused about the text and even more confused as to why you had been sent to meet here. This abandoned building was very large with many different paths that could cause anyone to easily become lost. You looked back down at your cell in your hand and re-read the message a few times before you heard footsteps in front of you. Your eyes flickered back up and you caught glimpse of a fairly pretty brunet woman.  
  
"Right on time, you're a rather polite girl to not wanting to keep others waiting." She told you, a small smirk on her red lips. You frowned and narrowed your eyes.  
  
"You're Adler, I presume?"  
  
"You presume right."  
  
"You're suppose to be dead though. How?"  
  
"How am I not dead or how am I still alive?" She asked as she was clicking away on her cell phone as if sending a message to someone. You narrowed your eyes even more feeling a slight twinge of anger raising inside of yourself.  
  
"How could you do something like this to him?" Her fingers stopped moving as her eyes were pulled away from her screen and locked onto you. Her lips parted before she gave a small chuckle.  
  
"Sherlock Holmes you mean?"  
  
"Though he might not say it out right, but he loves you... even if the idiot doesn't know it himself." You informed her, causing her to chuckle somewhat.  
  
"And what about you?" You raised a brow, not understanding where she was going with this at all.  
  
"You seem like the type of young woman who would be highly attracted to someone as smart as Mr. Holmes." You felt your cheeks heat up at her words as you lowered your gaze.  
  
"I-It's not like... I adore him for what he does... even if he's so smart he's stupid sometimes." Adler laughed even louder at this little comment you gave, causing you to pull your eyes back up from the floor.  
  
"Sounds much more than the word adore what with you trying to follow him everywhere on his cases and trying to make him happy."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" You said, quickly changing the subject from yourself back to her. She started typing again on her cell.  
  
"He loves you, and you've done nothing but killed him over these last couple of months by making him think that you were dead!"Adler suddenly hit a button on her phone and showed it to you as she wavered in her spot where she stood.  
  
"Happy now? I sent him a message informing him that I'm alive and well." You released a deep breath and allowed your shoulders to slouch while you shook your head.  
  
"Why did you call me here in the first place? I won't forgive you for hurting him in the way you have." Adler smiled what seemed like an actual smile for once in this whole time you had been talking to her.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure that I was leaving Mr. Holmes in good hands." You raised an brow. And just what did she mean about that? Just as you were getting ready to ask, you head a rather sensual womanly moan that came not too far away from you and she that echoed toward the side of the room where there were many machines. It took you a moment until you recalled that it was Sherlock's ringtone for Adler's number when she texted him.  
  
He was in this building while you and her had been talking. Suddenly, you heard a large door sound as it was being thrown open and slamming shut, signaling that Sherlock had left the two of you alone as he exited the building.  
  
"Sherlock!" You called out, looking around in that area trying to find the door that he had left through, only for your view to be blocked by all the machines. By the time you turned back to look at Adler, she was gone. The only thing left were the words she had given you that echoed in the back of your mind.  
  
 _"I just wanted to make sure that I was leaving Mr. Holmes in good hands."_  
  
What did she suppose to mean by that? Either way, you had to run after the idiot man and make sure that he was alright.

  
_And so you ran._


	19. Im in Love with You and You Didn't Even Know it

By the time you had gotten back to the flat, John was in your face bothering you with questions among questions.  
  
"Where did you go?" and "Why is Sherlock not acting like Sherlock?" where the first two questions that hit your ears as John sprung up from his chair and started barking questions. You shook your head, not really knowing where to start.  
  
"Adler isn't dead." John's expression held both shock and confusion as you continued to explain things to him.  
  
"She messaged me to come meet her in an abandoned building and Sherlock must have followed me without my knowing. I don't know how much he heard of our conversation, but-" You paused, thinking about what she and you had been talking about. Just how much of everything did Sherlock hear? Did he hear about what Adler said when she spoke about your feelings for him? You shook your head and turned your back to John, causing him even more confusion than before with your sudden actions.  
  
You didn't understand, how was Adler able to read you so well and yet Sherlock couldn't even read you right! It didn't make sense and worried you. You figured that you were just a hard person to read in the first place between your bi-polar type of personality where you could be childish at times and then switch to adult mode when needed. But, that didn't seem to be the reason at all and you were afraid to say that Sherlock might have been losing his touch; no of course that wasn't it because he was still so good at what he does.  
  
You sighed, and placed yourself on the couch in their flat. John watched you for a moment where he still stood until he placed his hands in his pockets and made his way over to you slowly. He took a seat next to you, his body turned to face you and showing that you had his full attention.  
  
"But?" John pushed, wanting to know what else there was to this little story that had caused Sherlock to not act like himself. You turned to look at John, his eyes widened slightly when he noticed the clouded haze in your eyes; you were getting ready to cry.  
  
"She was able to read me like an open book John. Something that Sherlock hasn't been able to do the whole time I've lived here. She-she told me about my feelings, feelings that I've been trying to push back into the back of my mind but, she told me everything that I had been feeling." You turned your head away and looked down at your knees as the tears slowly started to roll down the sides of your cheeks. John didn't know how to react to something like this. You had never broken down in front of either him or Sherlock the whole time they had knew you, at least to not the point where you were broken down into tears, angry sure, but not tears.  
  
"And, what did she tell you-"  
  
" _That I'm in love with **Sherlock Holmes!**_ " You shouted, unable to control your emotions further. You cupped your hands over your face and just started to sob as you sat there on the couch next to a baffled John. John didn't know what else to do but try his best to comfort you.  
  
But, little did the two of you know, Sherlock had been standing out in the middle of the hall between his bedroom and kitchen listening to the both of you talking. He heard as you had just spilled everything to John about what happened with Adler. He listened as you told John that Adler had read you and told you that you were in love with him; Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock turned slowly and headed back into his room where he sat on his bed as his mind flashed through everything that had happened.  
  
He sat there and pondered on how Adler had figured you out so quickly and he was having so much trouble getting just a simple deduction from you. It didn't make sense to him, none of this did and when he heard those words that came from your mouth that you shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear, Sherlock felt something change within him. It wasn't anything big, but it was just big enough for him to notice.  
 

But what that was, he didn't know that either.


	20. I'm like a Loyal Pet but You See Me as Much More Than That

It had come to John's attention that you had become even more distant from everyone in these last few weeks than ever before. John started to wonder if Sherlock's first guess about you being depressed was in fact correct, but it just needed certain events in order to prove it right. Such as with Adler. Since John had found out about Alder's deduction about you and Sherlock, his mind started to tick like a clock and he soon pieced everything together. The signs weren't always there, but there were a few times where it was so obvious but neither man could identify it due to the sheer fact that you were always so happy-go-lucky around both of them. Love was such a strange factor when it came to you and Sherlock. Both of you seemed to enjoy each others company, and you both got along rather well, but there were also the factors that you were nearly; similar.  
  
"Boys!" Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. Both John and Sherlock were in their flat sitting around as they were currently without a case. Mrs. Hudson came into their flat and placed her hands on her hips, instantly both men knew something was wrong by her body language.  
  
"Have you heard or seen anything of [Name] lately?" This was the second sign that something was wrong. John lowered his paper and looked up at the elder and worried looking woman.  
  
"You haven't heard from her?" John asked, finding it not like you to not check in at least halfway through the day with your aunt. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and started to mess with her fingers in a worry.  
  
"I haven't heard from her since this morning when she left to go to the library. She should have been back by now or at least have checked in, but she hasn't!" John noted the worried Mrs. Hudson and then turned and noted the least looking worried Sherlock. John placed his paper down into his chair and placed his arms on Mrs. Hudson's shoulders and looked her in the eyes.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm sure [Name]'s phone is just dead or something-"  
  
"She would never be so careless." Sherlock interrupted as he stated the facts about the girl. Both John and Mrs. Hudson turned and looked down at Sherlock, who continued to sit in his chair with that look on his face that told them both he was thinking hard about things.  
  
"[Name] is the type of responsible girl that wouldn't allow her phone battery to die. She cares too much for her family to have them worry and she would also keep it charged in case something were to happen to family, she would want to be reached right away." John and Mrs. Hudson both looked between one another before John turned back to Sherlock and raised an eye.  
  
"Sherlock?" John asked, causing Sherlock to look at him. John stood there for a moment somewhat baffled with the question hanging in his head, but was afraid to ask the question.  
  
"Do you know where she is?" Sherlock made a noise and turned his head to look out of the window.  
  
"I have several possibles, but really only one would fit and not worry everyone nearly as bad as the others." Sherlock noted the worsening look of worry on Mrs. Hudson face as he spoke. He wouldn't bother worrying the old woman, she had enough on her mind as it was already.  
  
"Alright, then where is she, Sherlock?" John questioned, only to hear the front door open and close sounding that someone was entering the apartment. Both John and Mrs. Hudson turned and heard footsteps walking up the stairs.  
  
"Why don't you ask her where she's been yourself, John?" Sherlock said, just before you entered into the flat dressed in thick clothes to accommodate for the mucky London weather today. You noticed everyone's worried expressions- all but Sherlock's -and knew that you were in some trouble when Mrs. Hudson walked up to you and put her finger in your face.  
  
"Where have you been young lady?"  
  
"Well, I was-"  
  
"Are you trying to send me to an early grave?"  
  
"Well, no I was just-"  
  
"Not phoning home and staying out since this morning!"  
  
"Well I was-"  
  
"I thought you were raised better than that! Now, just where were you?" After Mrs. Hudson stopped her rambling and had given you a chance to speak, you just stood there somewhat dumbfounded before slowly pulling your phone out of your pocket and showing everyone in the room the destroyed phone. Mrs. Hudson gasped, now understanding why you hadn't called and was unable to check in with her like you had done everyday since you moved to England.  
  
"I bumped into someone today and dropped my phone and a car got to it before I could." You explained, taking off your coat and setting it down on the chair next to you. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and went on about something before walking down the stairs still talking to herself. You raised a brow and turned back to John and Sherlock, who were both looking at you questionably.  
  
"What?" You asked. John just shook his head and sighed. He was happy to see that you were alright, but he didn't like knowing that you worried both him and Mrs. Hudson over something silly like your broken phone.  
  
"John, why don't you go downstairs and comfort Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock inquired. John turned to look at Sherlock and didn't think anything of it as he left the flat and went downstairs and did as he was told. However, you knew something was up, because after all this was Sherlock. No sooner did John leave the flat did Sherlock stand up and approach you. His height towered over you as he looked down at the features on your face before his hand slowly moved to your shoulder, only to have you quickly back away.  
  
" _Don't._ " You warned, causing Sherlock to narrow his eyes.  
  
"When?" He asked, taking a small step forward. You looked away and your eyes locked with your feet.  
  
"This morning, right after I left the house." You informed him. Sherlock tried to touch your shoulder again, but you backed away again and this time moved to the other side of the room.  
  
"Who?" Was his next question and it was a question that made you cringe. Your back was to him with your eyes closed, the images flying through your head as you recalled just what had happened nearly as soon as you stepped out of the door to your flat.

* * *

"I'm leaving now to go to the library, Aunt!" You yelled into the kitchen as you walked out the door. You were wrapped in a very thick jacket that John and your aunt had gotten you for Christmas, since you really didn't have the type of clothes to keep warm with the weather. You tugged your jacket together tightly as you stepped out onto the sidewalk with a smile on your face. They had just gotten some new mystery books in stock and you wanted to snag them up before everyone else had gotten to them.  
  
But, it seemed as if you weren't going to make it to the library.  
  
A black car pulled up beside you and as the window rolled down, you noticed it was Mycroft's assistant.  
  
"Miss. [Last Name], would you please get into the car?" she asked you. You rolled your eyes, wondering why in the world Mycroft couldn't just call you up and instead had to play with this God like complex that he had, he was seriously so mysterious sometimes that it bothered you. You got into the car and sat in silence the whole car ride to where ever it was that you were being taken; most likely to some abandoned factory or empty parking lot so that you could both talk alone without any interruptions. When you arrived, you got out of the car and didn't see Mycroft anywhere. You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply before walking out into the empty building, guessing he was inside somewhere. Entering the building you followed the trail of lights that were on and you were brought into what looked to be a large shipping room that was no longer in use. With your hands in your pockets you casually walked forward and talked loud enough to where your voice echoed off the old walls.  
  
"You know, if you and Sherlock weren't so much alike with this stupid God complex I don't know if I would be able to get along with either one of you."  
  
"Well, I'm glad to know that you think of Sherlock and I as one of the same." You stopped dead in your tracks. Your blood ran cold as you knew the voice to not be Mycroft's voice at all. You turned around and from behind you watched as a much shorter man walked out from the shadows and slowly approached you. You narrowed your eyes, remembering this man from before, from the incident at the pool.  
  
"It really touches my heart you know." he continued. A deep frown came to your lips as you slowly started to back away with each step he took toward you.  
  
" _Jim Moriarty_." You spat, knowing full and well that this man was him from before. He stopped walking and put his hands out to his sides.  
  
"I'm surprised that you remember me, love. After all, you were drugged pretty heavily that night."  
  
"Don't call me that." You told him. He smiled wickedly and started to shift back and forth in his spot.  
  
"What? Only your little Sherlock allow to call you by pet names? Because that's all you are to him after all; a pet." You knew Jim was trying to get to you.  
  
"Always so loyal. Following him around- or at least trying to- and always wanting to be by his side." You didn't know how he knew certain things but you had guessed he had been watching you this whole time somehow.  
  
"You make for a very good little pet you know that, it's just too bad that Sherlock can't see just how loyal you are to him. To see just how much you love him."  
  
"What do you want from me?" You finally asked, annoyed with Moriarty already. You knew that you were in a dangerous spot and it was very unlikely that anyone knew that you were here. You were helpless and the both of you knew it all too well.  
  
"What do I want from you? Nothing," Moriarty said with a shrug of his shoulders as he walked closer toward you. This time you staid in one spot, no longer willing to back away from him and show you that you feared him.  
  
"However, I do want something from Sherlock. And I know that with you, I can get it."  
  
"Not even in your dreams."  
  
"Oooooooo, I knew you would say something like that because after all, you are his loyal little pet." Moriarty whispered into your ear as he circled you like a shark in water. He stopped behind you causing you to tense up slowly and it only worsened when he placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned over to the side of your ear.  
  
"I told him a while back that I was going to burn the heart right out of him... and I meant every word that I said little [Name]." You cried out from a sharp pain that shot through your shoulder as Moriarty squeezed so hard you thought he was going to break the bone. You yanked yourself away from him, causing your phone to fall out of your pocket and be crushed by Moriarty's quick and swift approach onto you.

* * *

  
You reopened your eyes and tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly turned to face Sherlock. His face showed shock and for once he actually seemed very concerned for you.  
  
"After he told me that... he beat me. He kicked me, slapped me, punched me, even threatened to--" But you couldn't finish what you were going to say. You couldn't bring yourself to repeat those harsh words that came so easily from Moriarty's mouth.  
  
"He even threatened to kill me, Sherlock, and have you watch the whole thing." You knew Sherlock didn't care for you in the same manner that you cared for him, but in order for Moriarty to say something like that then it must have meant that Sherlock cared for you to at least some extent. And you found yourself being right about that. You found yourself in the arms of Sherlock as he held you there in the middle of the flat, his chin resting on the top of your head. You knew that you would never compare to Adler or his cases that he loved doing so much, but you were his friend and you knew that he at least cared for you in a way that a friend would care for another.

At least, that's what you had come to believe... and there was a reason why you were no Sherlock Holmes.


	21. Not Even in Your Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a filler chapter, but who cares. Anyway, please enjoy!

_"After another heroic act from the only Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, we are proud to present to our great nation this small token of our appreciation to you."   _You couldn't help but laugh and shank your head while you watched the news. Sherlock's fame had been moving up ever since he started working with John. John helped Sherlock through his blogs, and Sherlock's stardom slowly started to grow with each and every case. You watched as Sherlock took the box from the man and shook it once, automatically figuring out what was inside the box and complaining about it, but thanking the man anyways. Suddenly, the telly went off. You turned around and caught site of Sherlock standing there with the remote in his hand and a very peeved look on his face.  
  
"I see you solved another case. Congratulations." Sherlock just rolled his eyes before tossing the remote in a random direction in a room and falling down into his chair.  
  
"Who cares really? Their just too big of idiots themselves to be able to solve it." he turned to grab his villain and started to play a slow sounding tune. You just shook your head and looked about the apartment, expecting to find John, but he wasn't there.  
  
"Where's John?" But, you question went unheard the first time around as Sherlock was deep in thought with his music. You rolled your eyes, asking again, perhaps this time getting his attention. Sherlock's fingers stopped, his eyes catching your own as he just continued to sit there.  
  
"He went... _out_." You raised a brow. John went out? What was that suppose to mean? Then again, this was Sherlock Holmes and he probably hadn't even noticed that John had left once again. You decided that you weren't going to sit around all day lounging in the flat with Sherlock. You were terribly bored and wanted to do something, but what?  
  
"Bored?" Sherlock asked, watching from underneath his dark lashes as you looked about the room with that expression on your face. You looked at him, watching as he continued to pull the strings across the bow of his instrument rather slowly. With a slight nod of your head, Sherlock paused his playing to look at you. You looked at him curious, he was planning something and whatever it was, well, this was Sherlock here. Whatever he was planning couldn't have been good for you at all.  
  
"Want to play _Clue_?"  
  
"Oh, God, no." Sherlock raised a brow before scoffing at your reply, quickly dropping a bored game all together.  
  
"Well then what would you like to _do_?" He had caught your attention on the emphasized word of _do_ which caused your mind to boggle and twist down a road that you could have sworn you had locked away a long time ago.  
  
"I don't kn-"  
  
"Yes you do." Sherlock spoke, cutting you off from finishing your sentence. You looked at him with a blank expression, though you were extremely worried that he was reading you like an open book right now. Luckily, though, what Adler had told you was indeed true and Sherlock wasn't all that good at reading you. But, the only problem was was that you were even worse at reading Sherlock, so when he placed his violin down next to his chair and slowly started to stand and approach you, you had no idea what was getting ready to happen. He stopped right in front of your chair and placing down of his hands on the arms. You felt the need to lean back as he lowered himself closer to you, showing you up close those wonderful eyes that he was given. His cheekbones were indeed sharp, much better looking up close. And his hair, it seemed much more curly than before and it made you just want to run your fingers through it.  
  
"So, tell me, what do you want to do, [Name]?" If you thought your heart was going to pop out of your chest before, you thought it was going to just explode now. He spoke your name in a rather husky tone, causing you to blink and lose composure no longer able to hide your emotions. He gave a sly smirk before he slowly started to lean forward, closer to you. You felt your cheeks flush before the burning set in on the round parts of skin. You knew it was bad, because Sherlock's smirk only grew more before it disappeared altogether. You felt his breath on your lips, he was just so close to you now and you knew that he was going to kiss you.  
  
Well, only in your dreams that is to say.  
  
Your eyes snapped open with a slight jump as the newspaper that was laying over your face went skidding to the floor making a loud rattling noise as it hit. The sound startled John, who was sitting in his chair across from you, who was laying on the couch, and caused him to look over at you with a confused look. You looked all around the room, confused at first, then sad, then angry, then upset again. John watched as you started to struggle to keep your composure, but it all seemed to come crumbling down when Sherlock shouted something from downstairs, causing you to jump up off the couch and go sprinting through the flat and running to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. John's eyes turned away from the now closed bathroom door and went to look back to where you had been asleep on the couch. He had that look, that John look, on his face that told him whatever had happened to you, he didn't want to know.  
  
He sighed once very deeply before flicking his wrists that held his own newspaper and went back to reading today's daily news.


	22. I have a Job for You

Since the incident with Moriarty, Sherlock had informed Mycroft of what had happen. After Mycroft had heard of the news, unknown to John, Mycroft had called in [Name] herself for a meeting one afternoon. However, this was not the type of meeting that she had expected. The two of them were currently sitting in Mycroft's own home. The house was amazing and beautiful. It was the type of house that [Name] knew she could never afford even with a lifetime full of savings. They were in his dinning room, which was bigger than the whole apartment of Baker Street put together.  
  
He watched her from across the small table, one that had been brought in to accommodate for their meeting, one small enough to where all he had to do was lean over and he would have been able to touch her. He watched her from over his tea cup as she paid more attention to her surroundings rather than her tea.  
  
"So, Miss.[L/N], how are things going for you at Baker Street?" Mycroft's voice caused her to turn away from the picture on the wall and turn her attention toward him.  
  
"Oh, everything's wonderful." she told him, a smile coming to her lips. Mycroft took a moment to study her, he only took seconds before he deduced everything about her appearance.  
  
"Ah, well, that's good to hear." He leaned forward, his eyes watching her closely while her pink soft lips came to the rim of the cup. He watched the way she slowly sipped on the tea. He watched the way her (e/c) orbs met his and he paused for a moment while watching the gaze of her eyes.  
  
"How's the shoulder?" Her eyes instantly left his, showing him exactly what he needed to know. She placed her cup down on the saucer slowly as her smile turned into a deep frown.  
  
"You read me?" She asked him. He paused for a moment looking as if he was unsure on how to answer or if he should even answer. A small and almost genuine smile came to his lips.  
  
"If by _"reading you"_ you mean hearing from Sherlock about the incident then yes." She looked at him, looking as if she had seen a ghost. Mycroft lowered his own cup, placing it down on the plate as he now became serious.  
  
"Miss.[L/N], there is a lot that you don't understand about my brother and myself due to the fact that you're-"  
  
"An ignorant human being who couldn't even solve a cross-word puzzle with only one column left?" Mycroft gave her a rather confused look before he turned his head slightly to the side.  
  
"I was going to say because you're not like us. I know my younger brother tends to have a way with words-"  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"But, you have no idea the lengths he is willing to go."  
  
"Willing to go? Go for what?" She was confused, Mycroft had called her here for a meeting, which in turn had turned out to be a get together for tea, and now he was filling her head with confusing worded sentences. Mycroft sighed, muttering something about normal people before he folded his hands over his knee as he sat at the table across from the woman.  
  
"There is a war raging, Miss.[L/N], and it is a war that now involves yourself as well." Mycroft said, pulling out a file that he had kept hidden this whole time. Her eyes moved from him to the folder that he placed down on the table. He watched her closely, waiting for her to open it up, but she never even made a move to touch it. Mycroft turned his head slightly before reaching out and opening the folder to reveal files on the woman sitting in front of him. Her eyes turned up to Mycroft, confusion clearly across her face.  
  
"Don't act so confused Miss.[L/N], unlike my little brother I have the power to access any documents from anywhere in the world, including your home in America."  
  
"What is it you want from me, Mycroft?" He smiled, knowing that the girl didn't enjoy having her information spread all about to others who she didn't intrust such information with without her knowing.  
  
"Simple, with what I've found in these records I would like to offer you a job."  
  
"A job?"  
  
"Indeed. A job that only someone of your abilities would be able to handle and not goof off or mess around." She locked eyes with Mycroft-- that cheeky bastard. He was using her file against her, well in her eyes he was, to have her work with him on something that she had no clue what it was even about. She sighed, knowing that she honestly didn't have much of a choice now that he had her file and knew every dirty little secrete there was to know about her.  
  
"What's the job?" Mycroft smirked. He picked up his cup and took another sip of his tea, knowing that he had her right where he wanted her.

  
"Something that you've always wanted to do, ever since you were little."


	23. I Have a History

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson lounged about in their flat. Sherlock was typing away on the computer as he searched about for something on the interweb. John on the other hand was relaxing in his chair and reading the local news of London. As his eyes scanned the page John parted his lips, directing his question toward Sherlock.  
  
"Have you heard from [Name] lately?" Sherlock acted like he was ignoring John, though he did in fact hear the question. John's eyes moved from the paper when he was left without an answer, wondering if Sherlock was even paying a speck of attention to him. He lowered his paper and started to open his mouth again only to be stopped by a loud scream that came from Mrs. Hudson from downstairs. Within seconds, both men had sprung from their spots and each of them raced downstairs from the startling sound. Sherlock hit the first floor first, followed closely by John, and rushed into the kitchen.  
  
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled, wondering what had caused the elderly woman to scream. When he entered the kitchen, Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks while his eyes looked upon the dancing couple in the middle of the kitchen. John peeked over Sherlock's shoulder and caught site of why the man in front of him was so wide-eyed to begin. Both [Name] and Mrs. Hudson were dancing about in the kitchen, though it seemed that Mrs. Hudson was doing more of the dancing as [Name] was slightly laughing and grinning from ear to ear with her aunt. Sherlock looked at the pair confused, wondering what had happened to cause this occurrence before the two men.  
  
"Oh Sherlock, John!" Mrs. Hudson cheered, happy to see the two boys. Both still looked confused even long after Mrs. Hudson released [Name] and their dancing (if one would call it that) about the kitchen stopped. Mrs. Hudson then clapped both her hands together and giggled uncontrollably as she continued to keep both males in suspense.  
  
"What's going on?" John inquired. He had managed to slip past Sherlock and into the kitchen, looking around to see if there was something he had missed. Mrs. Hudson's smile grew even more than before as she gave one final giggle before turning and showing off her niece to both boys.  
  
"[Name] has gotten her a job!" John glanced from Mrs. Hudson over to [Name] and smiled.  
  
"Well, congratulations." You couldn't help but smile just a bit, after all you always had enjoyed John's praise toward you. You nodded your head in thanks before looking over to Sherlock for some type of approval or type of emotion; you seen nothing.  
  
"[Name] is going to be working for the government, your own brother, Sherlock." Sherlock's gaze never faulted from your own as he answered Mrs. Hudson.  
  
"Wonderful, I'm sure she will be of good use to him." You don't really know why, but you felt a sharp sting in your chest from Sherlock's monotone words. They seemed all too cold to you, but you already understood the reasoning behind it. Mycroft had explained it to you that Sherlock knew you were going to accept the job offer, he and Mycroft had already spoken about it, and he did not like the idea at all.  
  
"I'm more of a records keeper really." you told them all, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. "History records. I'm not really working for the government besides storing and sorting papers." Mrs. Hudson was oblivious to the current tension between her niece and tenant, however, John seemed to notice the slight unease that came from the girl.  
  
"Never the less, you've always wanted to do something history related! I'm so proud of you, if only your mother and father knew about it. Why not go and phone them dear? I'm sure they'll be pleased to hear it." Mrs. Hudson didn't give you a second chance to even reply as she was pushing you out of the room. You gave one small glance over your shoulder before going off into her living room and doing as you were told. When you left, Mrs. Hudson turned around and went to the stove to make a cup of tea; the smile still on her lips. John looked over at Sherlock confused before glancing back over at Mrs. Hudson.  
  
"[Name] has parents?" John's baffled voice caused Mrs. Hudson to turn from the stove and frown deeply.  
  
"Well of course she has parents, she wouldn't be here if she didn't?" John sighed and waved his hand as that wasn't what he meant. As far as both he and Sherlock had known, [Name] didn't have any parents back in America, John actually figured that's why she had moved here to England with her aunt.  
  
"It's just, she's never mentioned her parents, not once." Mrs. Hudson was pulling some cups out of the cupboard while John continued his questioning. Sherlock just continued to stand in the doorway while looking down at the floor, his brain currently racking up all the possibilities that were going through his mind at lighting speeds. Mrs. Hudson turned to look at John with a rather sad expression while sitting the cup down on the counter slowly.  
  
"My late husband was her uncle by blood. Her mother was his elder sister. He was the youngest of three children, having another sister who was the middle child. [Name]'s mother, well she was something else, smart just like her father and it must have rubbed off on [Name] as well. They were a nice family, really they were..." Mrs. Hudson tapped her finger against the counter before she hesitantly moved over to the kitchen table and took a seat and watched the pot boil on the stove.  
  
"It all seemed to fall apart shortly after my late husband and [Name]'s father's youngest brother had gotten together. You see, [Name]'s father was also the eldest of the three boys. His youngest brother, Chad, well, he wasn't all there to begin with really. All three of them were the nicest young men you'd ever meet over there in the states, but what happened with Chad and [Name], well, it changed the girl's life forever." John's gaze moved from Sherlock to Mrs. Hudson as he gripped the back of the chair across from Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen. John shook his head and looked up at the woman.  
  
"And, what happened?" John questioned. This was the first time that both boys were hearing about [Name]'s history. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and with a sigh she jumped up from her chair and started messing about with the stove.  
  
"If you really want to know more about her, you'll have to ask her dear. I'm not about ready to break my promise to her just because you two are curious about the girl that lives below you." And with that the conversation was deemed over by the three. John sighed and turned to leave as he scooted past Sherlock who was still standing in the doorway. John gave Sherlock a once over his shoulder before proceeding upstairs and back to his paper. Sherlock stood there for a moment longer before he looked back up at Mrs. Hudson and turned around looking at the living room door right across the hall. Sherlock stood there for a good long while as he heard muffled voices on the other side of the door, but was unable to figure out what was being said exactly. But, there was one thing Sherlock Holmes knew for sure.

  
_All The Pieces Were Coming Together_   
  



	24. Words of Death

You sighed as your fingers moved at a quicken pace through the documents and British files. Tilting your head to the side by just an inch caused your slightly longer [h/c] hair to fall to the side. It had been about a month since you started working for Mycroft and you had to say that the pay wasn't all that bad. The only problem that you seemed to have was when Mycroft would occasionally wander down to your office and take you out for lunch, which was every day since you started working for him. You found it strange that Mycroft would even want to spend time with someone like yourself. He also kept you in the office for long periods of time until the point to where you were working into the early hours of the morning sometimes. You swore he was doing this just to get to Sherlock, who had came to your office more than once to call upon you for a third option on a case, which seemed to be working as Sherlock was always escorted out by Mycroft's men. You really didn't know why Mycroft likes to butt head with Sherlock, often making his little brother angry by bringing up something about " _Redbeard_ " every time Mycroft noticed Sherlock linger about your office for longer than needed.  
  
Never the less, work was all well and dandy, that was until today.  
  
You were just getting ready to leave the office when you were walking down the hall. You had to pass Mycroft's office and that's when you caught ear of something being said from behind the door. Letting curiosity get the better of you, you slowly crept toward the door and placed your ear to the wooden surface hearing Mycroft and Sherlock talking about something. You couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded like something that was in code. You lingered for a moment longer and was just about ready to leave when you heard your name being thrown into the mix with Molly's and John's. You pulled away from the door with slightly wide eyes as you didn't really understand the conversation, but wanted to hear no more when a certain subject arose. Just as you were getting ready to leave, the door swung open and there stood Mycroft glaring down at you with that disapproval look that he normally gave to Sherlock. You looked up at him with an awkward smile before glancing back into his office and found Sherlock gazing at you from behind a laptop at Mycroft's desk.  
  
"Miss. [L/N]." Mycroft's tone made you flinch. Never before had it been so cold toward you, you knew you were in trouble. You gave a small laugh trying to lighten the mood, but Mycroft wasn't about ready to have any of it. He moved out of the way and motioned for you to enter the office, having you take a seat in the chair across from Sherlock. You gulped before entering the room and walking over to the chair, taking a seat without making eye contact with Sherlock, who was staring rather hotly toward you. Mycroft shut and locked the office door before he approached you from the side and looked down at you with arms crossed.  
  
"Spying on the government is a high offense." Mycroft threatened, causing your blood to run cold as you kept your eyes locked with the front of Mycroft's deep oak colored desk. You continued to feel Sherlock's eyes piercing your skull, he was just as happy with you as Mycroft at the moment. Speaking of Mycroft, he was now bent over by the side of your face and watching you closely.  
  
"Best you tell us what you heard. Les you want to be punished?" You gulped. The last thing you wanted was a punishment from Mycroft, only God knows what the man would make you do. You licked your dried lips before parting them to speak, not daring to look up at either of them.  
  
"I heard a bunch of code names. Then I heard something about Molly, John, and myself... and..." you paused, not really sure how to continue without your voice cracking. Both men waited for you to continue, both of them must have seen how difficult it was for you to gather your next set of words by the way your skin turned pale and your eyes changed to a deeper color; you were afraid to speak.  
  
"Well?" Mycroft pushed, wanting to know what else you had heard. You licked your lips once more as you found the courage to finally lift your head and make dead eye contact with Sherlock Holmes.  
 

_"Sherlock's death."_


	25. I Believe it to be True

"I don't understand." you spoke softly on the car ride home. Sherlock sat beside you in Mycroft's own personal vehicle in which he had allowed the both of you to borrow so that you may speak privately had the need were to arise, in which case it did. Sherlock turned his gaze from the outside world and focused clearly on only you. You felt your stomach twisting and turning, a sickening feeling forming in the pit of your stomach that made you want to vomit all over the nice clean floor of Mycroft's car. Oh how you wish you could just plaster his floor without getting in trouble, but you knew Mycroft would have a fit if you were to lose your lunch in the back seat of his _very_ expensive car.  
  
"What aren't you telling me?" you asked once more. Sherlock and Mycroft wouldn't tell you a single bit of information regarding to what you had heard. They told you that it was best kept safe with them and only them. You sighed, feeling as if your _friendship_ with Sherlock Holmes meant absolutely nothing at all.  
  
"What aren't _you_ telling me?" Sherlock scoffed, clearly annoyed with something. You looked over at him, confused and rather hurt.  
  
"What?" Sherlock just rolled his eyes and shook his head while turning his gaze back to the outside world. Your hurt slowly started to turn to anger, upset with the fact that you heard something about Sherlock's death and now it seemed that Sherlock was upset with you over something that you had no idea what about.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about!" Sherlock's head snapped around so fast that his hair took time to settle. His eyes were wide from your sudden outburst into his ear before they narrowed, becoming completely angry with your ignorance.  
  
"The fact that you are keeping secrets from me! I am trying to keep you and the others safe, but you are lacking valuable information to me that could be used to keep you safe!" You threw yourself up in the backseat of the car. You were starting to become red in the face. You didn't like it the least bit when you were left out of the loop or having someone yelling at you for reasons that you knew nothing about.  
  
"Lacking valuable information!? I told you everything back in the damn office! I didn't hear anything else!"  
  
"Oh my God, you are so dense it's incredible!" Sherlock groaned. You sat back with your mouth agape and looking at the dark haired man.  
  
"I don't care about any of that! I'm talking about the man named _Chad_! Who is he? Because I know he's the reason why you left America!" You felt the anger inside you finally just pop. You were done, you were so exceedingly done right now. You turned to the screen that separated you from the driver and banged on it with your fist as hard as you could which caused the whole glass screen to jump with every contact from your fist.  
  
"Stop the damn car!" you shouted, causing Sherlock to look at you confused.  
  
"What are you doing!?" he asked, wanting an answer from you. But you only ignored him as you were far too pissed off to be able to stand the rest of the car ride back to Baker Street with the man.  
  
" _ **Stop the damn car right fucking now!!**_ " Your shouting turned into an ear piercing pissed off screech that finally made the driver pull over to the curb. You basically threw the car door open to the point where Sherlock thought you were going to dislocate the door as you stepped out into the freezing night air. Slamming the door behind you, you started to walk off down the empty sidewalk as you heard another car door open and close as the sound of footsteps raced to catch up with you.  
  
"[Name]." Sherlock called out. He reached out to grab your arm only to have you harshly rip it out of his grasp and continued walking.  
  
"[Name]!" This time Sherlock grabbed you and pushed you up against the wall of a nearby building. You struggled to get lose of him, but he wasn't about ready to allow that to happen.  
  
"Tell me." he demanded. You scoffed, still trying to push him away but his height and weight was making it all far too difficult for you to manage.  
  
"Get away from me!"  
  
"I will when you tell me!"  
  
"No, Sherlock, you tell me!" you cried, not being able to take it anymore. Sherlock's breath caught in the back of his throat when you had finally stopped struggling and instead clung onto his arms for support. He watched as you stood there up against the building between his body and just lost it. Your eyes turned a slight red from the tears the ushered down the sides of your rosy cheeks. Your fingers tightened around Sherlock's jacket covered arms. Your face pointed down and then up again to look at him as you stood there weeping. This was the first actual time Sherlock had ever seen you cry, well, really crying he should say.  
  
"You tell me why I heard you and Mycroft talking about your death in his office! You tell me what's going to happen to you! Is it Moriarty? Is he going to kill you!" Sherlock stood there watching you break down in front of him and for the first time in a long time he stood there with no thought process what so ever. He couldn't even fathom what would have been going through his mind right now. He watched you basically balling your eyes out in his arms and he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit.... well, _sorry_. It was strange for Sherlock to even think about how he felt, because half the time he didn't feel _anything_. But, when he was with you, looked at you, thought about you, he always felt _something_. He sighed, knowing that he couldn't tell you anything about what you had heard from behind the door. He knew that in order to protect you, he had to leave out as much information as possible.  
  
"Yes." he muttered, causing you to look up at him. He was frowning deeply, not really wanting to say anymore on the subject, but it was necessary for you to know what he could tell you.

  
 " _Yes, I think am going to die._ "

 

You honestly could not remember the last time you ate properly, nor did you really give a damn. After seeing that whole incident, you couldn't stomach anything.

 

  
_Sherlock Holmes was indeed **dead**_  
 

He died right before your very eyes, and you couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. You wanted to do something, anything to have stopped him. It wasn't long after you started thinking that you could have done something to have prevented his death. Maybe you should have staid with him? Maybe you should have talked to him in his time of need? But no, instead you abandoned him. You left him alone and went back into your place of hiding. You felt so much anger, so much built up anger that you just felt the urge to end your very own life. Maybe that's what put you here in the first place? Maybe that's why these nice white walls welcomed you into their awaiting home with such open arms? Maybe that's why the nice nurses and doctors took such good care of you, because they knew about what you went through and couldn't help but feel the least bit sorry for you and your life.  
  
But, nothing made a difference anymore. You didn't care about life, family, friends, nothing. Sherlock Holmes, the man you looked up to, the man who you dared to call your friend, had left you and went to a place and nobody else would allow you to follow him to.  
  
It didn't take long for you to be released into the custody of someone who was willing to watch you and make sure you weren't going to try and take your life. The one person who you would have least had expected who wanted to take care of you. The one person who never really showed any type of caring emotion toward you. He walked into your room after you had been released into his custody and stood there in the doorway just looking down at you with those eyes of his. He stood there as he waited for you to say something, but you said nothing, you hadn't said a word after you had seen Sherlock's skull crushed and busted open all over the sidewalk. The doctors believed you to be mute now after such a traumatic event that was seen by your eyes. But, the man standing before you now in your doorway knew better than those idiots.  
  
"You know you'll have to start speaking again sometime soon." he told you, causing your blood red eyes to gaze up at him before they dropped back to the floor. He sighed, walking into the room and standing before you as he waited for you to pick up your small bag that sat beside you on the bed. He pondered for a moment before reaching down and picking up the bag and carrying it himself.  
  
"Surely you're not going to make a habit out of this? I'm not one to carry your things but given the circumstances I will assist you just this once. However, when we return home you will be on your own. Though, you will still be under my watchful eye. Do I make myself clear?" he asked while walking back toward the door with your bag in his hand and his walking cane in the other. He turned to watch you pushing yourself up off the bed and following behind him before you bypassed him all together and walked down the hall as if you were still in a ghostly trance. He sighed deeply, knowing that whatever the doctors had you on were making you this way. He also knew that Sherlock's death had effected you in more ways than one as well. There were things that he wished he could have told you, but it was best to keep them from you for now. There would be a time and place for you to know everything that had happened, and you would find out the truth in due time.  
  
"Foolish little brother, look at what you've done to her." Mycroft muttered to himself before carrying on down the hallway to catch up with your slow moving body.


End file.
